The Hero You Deserve
by MagnamLux
Summary: Zim was supposed to die that day, for crimes against the Irken race that cannot be undone, and now it seems that the gods have called upon him for his decisive, irrefutable judgement. He has no choice but to rely on the people he once called enemies. But they've grown up, and are ready to forget him. - OCs/Apocrypha Part I - ZaGr/ZaDr/ZaDf in later chapters.
1. A Samaritan

**Okay, so this will probably be my one and only fan fiction on this site, and I'd like to see it get somewhere. Now, before we start, I'd like to say the following; this world that this fic is based in is 90% original (since inspiration had to come from somewhere) and full to the brim with crossover characters. However, I still see this is a primarily Invader ZIM fic.**

**Reviews are treasured, guys! Don't care how long, negative, positive, just be constructive if you can. I'll make sure to repay the favour.**

* * *

"It's not a party, Zim! It's an Irken Existence Evaluation."

"I was busy pushing bodies around as you well know and what would a note say, Dan? 'Cat dead, details later'?"

"We're leaving ten minutes ago!"

"It'll be one pistol as before, and you can be the gentleman and shoot the lady; and starve to death yourself."

"It could have imitated a million life forms on a million planets. It could change into any one of them at any time. Now, it wants life forms on Earth."

"To the little guys."

"I usually hear that when you speak but it's usually subtext."

"Your ancestors called it magic, but you call it science. I come from a land where they are one and the same."

"In their last moments, people show you who they really are."

"No... this is a mistake! Have I mentioned that I am ZIM!"

"Why someone weak? Because a weak man knows the value of strength, the value of power…"

"They say that the best weapon is the one you never have to fire. I respectfully disagree."

"But love like that doesn't just disappear, does it? No matter how powerful the hate, there is always a little love left, underneath."

"I thought you were the Moon and I was your Wolverine. Turns out you're the Trickster, and I'm just the fool who got played."

"A person knows when they're in darkness, even when they can't see."

"Irken Zim's data is not allowed to into the collective. His PAK will be removed, and erased."

"Sometimes...you can cry until there's nothing wet in you. You can scream and curse to where your throat rebels and ruptures. You can pray, all you want, to whatever god you think will listen. And, still it makes no difference. It goes on, with no sign as to when it might release you. And you know that if it ever did relent...it would not be because it cared."

* * *

He couldn't remember what he was staring at but he kept on gazing anyway. It felt like he'd been there for a lifetime - in some ways he had. Zim had never thought about what it was like to die; it was frowned upon in Irken culture. However, at that moment, he felt sure that death had touched him, if not briefly and fleeting. A moment ago he had been gone. He knew it, felt it. A strange, interminable emptiness that had occurred following a headache. And mind consuming terror. Numbing, down to the very core. He remembered it but decided to push it back into the corners of his mind.

There was a cold surrounding him, and everything was still dark. Zim knew that this was not, of course, the vast emptiness he couldn't remember that he had been in. The thing called death. This was a very real chill that made his body quake sporadically. There was a hard floor beneath him, glacial cold and smooth like ice. The air was dry and clean, fresh air that made his throat begin to cool. Ice began to form at the corners of his eyes, or feathering his eyelashes.

_I've been here quite some time_, he thought slowly. It wasn't like him. To be so slow, even in his head -which was always a step ahead of his body, but not of transpiring events- he touched a moment then. In his head he wondered, silently; _What happened to me?_

"What has happened to me?" The sound of his own voice was empty. He remembered only in memories the thrill and confidence his own sound had given him. The sound of his name.

"I am Zim," he whispered, still staring, unblinking, into the darkness. "My name is Zim. I am an Invader, a proud and respected Irken Invader. I am proud, there's no place for doubt. Pride. I am proud to be Zim." Those words were a lie. He felt it deep inside whatever heart he might have. A heart he had, he knew that. He could feel it beating.

He sat up slowly to avoid his head spinning, reaching out for something, anything. The knuckles of his hand brushed against something solid and he grasped for it with both hands. One gripped it but the other collided with something else. A sudden, short metallic bang echoed out, and Zim breathed in sharply. He fumbled with the now numb hand to grasp the metal object. It was a pole. With a quick burst of short-lived enthusiasm, Zim pulled himself to his feet. As soon as he had, a sudden wave of fatigue washed over him and he leaned into the pole to keep himself upright.

A click resonated near him, and a door opened.

A wash of white radiance poured into the room, and then a flash and lights flickered on. Zim hissed and shut his eyes tightly. "I am Zim!"

"Oh you're kidding, right?" The voice was soft - a males, but soft. The light tapping of buttons could be heard, and then a ringing. The intruder was calling someone. He let out a heavy sigh.

Zim cracked open one eye, slowly adjusting to the sudden brightness.

"West? You never call me, what is it now that's so important?"

The intruder spoke in an irritated, quick manner. "Another one's appeared, Szark. _Another._ Get down here and deal with it, and while you're at it, find me a new station because this is getting ridiculous." The call ended.

Zim managed to open his eyes, and he saw the young man in the doorway. He was unthreatening and slightly built, with dusty blonde hair and blue eyes behind large spectacles. The image of modest youth, and the image of sly, dark intelligence. There was an air of wrongness about him.

Zim let the pole go and stepped back, looking around him and, suddenly, was filled with something akin to dread. He was in a storage room, filled with wide tables and shelves, and as he was scanning them he did something he'd never done before; he made eye contact with a dead man. Frozen, with eyes wide open, pale from the touch of death. The dead man stared accusingly past him.  
Zim looked around, his breathing fast and shallow, as all around he spotted the corpses of dead humans.

* * *

**Further notes:**

**Because this is an original world made by me -yes that is important and hopefully you'll understand why-, it tends to be complexity of the subtle variety, aka laws, species rank, technological intricacy, behind-the-scenes sub plot and plot development and hierarchal order. There's also an insane amount of backstory that will be slowly revealed through some of the more political/OC only scenes (so you'll need to pay attention, kiddies!).**

**Because I'm a very speculative person, there will be some major character changes along the way to do with underdeveloped pieces of lore, however, I do not take it as canon but enjoy tinkering with insane ideas.**

**Original characters are usually Sueish, but here's the thing- these OC's were not made for this fanfic alone, but for an original idea. They are vastly important characters to the plot -even more so than any crossover characters. Give these guys a chance and I hope they'll shine for you :3 There are mini profiles of some of them in my profile, if you wish to have a look.**


	2. Courtesy Call

The blonde's name was Herbert West, and a doctor of questionable medicine and science. The man was no doubt intelligent - enough so to merit being handed a laboratory of his own beneath the ground. West had had a tough time leading Zim out of his morgue and into the main operating room. The sight of the sterile space had sent the small green alien into a fit of panic, clawing and hissing in an almost animalistic manner at West. However, even Zim found a moral discomfort in sitting in a massive storage room of dead bodies.

Zim had come with the doctor, out of the morgue and away from the operating table, having screamed for a few minutes about how the filthy human-beast wasn't going to get the chance to cut him open. He was quiet for now, sitting in a more relaxed room up a flight of stairs, on what Zim presumed was the ground floor, despite the lack of windows. For now, he was coping with whatever trauma he'd suffered, and was still mulling about in his own thoughts.

West sat opposite Zim, on a curving white sofa. The green alien was sitting on an identical seat.

The room was white, but a black marble fireplace stuck out on one of the walls, aligned between the gap of the two sofas at one end. A massive clock with a waved hand kept a steady beat, alongside an empty picture frame hanging next to it. Other than the two sofas was an oval glass coffee table, the beginnings of a white spiral staircase leading up to the first floor (and down to the basement and morgue) and a stainless steel metal door opposite the fireplace and a large, simple lampshade white light on the ceiling. There was no art, no decoration, no character. Just a clean, clinical layout.

"You're the fifth person this month to appear in my basement. The last one was in the medical cabinet, poor sod. All the shelves had fallen down and the equipment was all over the shop… you aren't listening, are you?" West tilted his head to one side. He adjusted his hands holding a steaming cup of tea. Another mug sat on the coffee table. "You're also one of the many to have declined a cup of tea. Shame. I used six spoons of sugar for you."

Zim raised his gaze from the floor. "Stupid human, Zim doesn't drink your filthy… _tea_," he spat, his eyes narrowing. "Do you think I'd be so foolish as to accept your hospitality?"

West took his tea in one hand and scratched the back of his head with the other, before pushing his glasses back up his nose. He shrugged. "I could take you back down to the operation room and-"

"Don't threaten me, stinking worm-baby. I am your superior." Zim's threats were half-hearted. He didn't have the fire in him now, and he knew it. The words came out emotionless and empty, but he said it nonetheless, trying to regain a sense of Irken patriotism. Everything inside of him knew those day were gone; the Tallest had betrayed him for the final time, and he wasn't quick to forgive and forget.

West pursed his lips and stood up, tapping his fingers on his mug. It was white, like the room, but in big, bold black letters on the front it said 'I Love Being Crazy'. "Sure you are, sure you are."

"You believe me? You believe you are inferior to Zim!" Zim's voice rose, growing excited -maybe these humans weren't as stupid as he first though.

West laughed. "I'm sorry, I ought to have known an alien race wouldn't have heard of the word 'sarcasm'."

A knock stopped Zim from answering back, his head turning sharply to the door, his antennae standing to attention in surprise. His hands dug into the seat of the sofa, his eyes now wide, but slowly tapering into what seemed to be suspicion.

West observed the motion for a while, waiting for the second knock that eventually hailed him to the door. He placed his mug on the coffee table as he passed. He seemed to study the door for a little, before placing his palm on it. The frame glowed a light blue, before sliding open, vanishing into the doorframe. Swiftly, West stepped back and let three new people enter the room. Outside, it seemed unearthly bright. Beyond the figures was a pale pathway and a grey shade of what could have been a road. Grass grew in a small strip beside the pavement.

Zim gave a growl of frustration. "More humans? What are you here for? Do you intend to cut me open and film it and name it after the Dib-human? You barbaric excuses for sentient life forms, he paid you to capture me, didn't he!" He rose to his feet and marched to the end of the sofa, pointing an accusing finger at the three new figures. A moment of silence befell the room as the door slid shut and the frame glowed once again. Zim seemed frozen in time, his face in a slight snarl and his posture unyielding to any movements. _They don't realize who they're messing with, filthy worm-babies._

The front man -a tall, slender man in a black suit, with the only other colour being a golden tie- sneered and walked around him, running a hand through his dark hair. Their was a similar dark intelligence to his eyes to West's, but instead of being a cornflower blue, they were honey gold, fairly set in his pale, clean-shaven face. "You're jumping too far ahead, green thing. Slow down a notch, Benzaiten! Settle the new arrival, please."

The woman who reacted was less than friendly looking. She had more muscles than West or the black-haired man - her hair was an unkempt, plum-coloured mess, her eyes a fierce, fiery light brown. Her complexion was a deep tan, and on her left shoulder was a cliché, somewhat intricate tribal tattoo. Unlike her fellow companions, she was dressed in labouring clothes; a dark, faded purple vest and baggy, oil-stained jeans with scuffed and abused trainers. She was shorter than the other two, but she looked like she could go three rounds with a bear. "Whatever, Szark."

Zim's head perked up, his antennae rose again. "_Szark_? You were communicating with the blonde worm-baby earlier?"

"My name's West. You better start calling me that real soon or I might just reserve a spot for your head on my mantelpiece upstairs."

"Can it, necromancer," Benzaiten snapped, "_you_ don't threaten newcomers. You were almost thrown overboard because of your rather dodgy history with corpses." She was silenced by a sharp look from Szark.

The other arrival -a boy no older than eighteen- let himself shrink into the background of the conversation, soon following Szark like a lost puppy. He was of the least interest to Zim in the conversation - the least threatening of everyone in the room. Like the man he stood beside, the boy had dark hair, however it was brown and not black. His face seemed to have a boyish youth, pre-dating his overall physical age, with large, deep set green eyes. He wore a hooded jacket undone over a blue cotton dress shirt, with pale gray jeans and converses. He fiddled incessantly with a silver ring on the middle finger of his left hand.

Zim looked around at the tall man, dressed in his fancy attire with a pompous aura. "Don't try anything."

"The name's Vincent Szark, pleased to meet you," Vincent pulled off a glove and extended a hand towards Zim. When Zim simply glared at his hand with disgust, he put the glove back on. "I see you're not a social type. Didn't think you were. Zim, is it? You died a while ago. It's been a few years since the accident, I don't know why you're this late arriving, you did plenty to leave your mark on history. That usually helps." The man was rambling to himself; his voice trailed off and he allowed himself to walk -almost floating- over to West.

The blonde -described as a necromancer- shrugged and picked up his tea, not letting his eyes leave Vincent's. "He's a funny one, Your Grace. He'll… calm down soon. Being dead doesn't do anything for being broody."

Zim's eyes widened as a thought stuck him. "You brought me back to life? I died? Impossible, Zim cannot die!" Focus went from Vincent to West -never to Benzaiten or the boy. In a frenzy, Zim stormed up to West, climbing on the back of the sofa, still not even reaching his chest height. The two glared at each other for a moment, then Zim turned his head to stare at Vincent. "Y-you know my name? Disgusting human, you should be bowing in my presence."

Vincent rolled his eyes. "No, no, I don't think that's necessary at all." A sly smile cut across his face.

Zim clenched his fists and ground his pointed teeth together sharply. "I could kill you right here, right now," he said quietly, angling his face downwards, but never letting his eyes leave Vincent's. Zim could feel his body become hot with a slowly building rage. The arrogant human made him angry just being in the room. To question his authority was to question your expenditure, and to Zim, just about everybody was expendable. Especially the Dib-human.

"I know a couple hundred people who'd love to bet their life's wages otherwise, and sure, who doesn't know your name here after you've been shouting around like a slut proclaiming the amount of guys she's fucked. That and someone called Dib recognised your name when West explained to us how he found you." Vincent let Zim look away first.

A frown appeared on Zim's face; "The Dib-stink is with you? Where is he!"

"Classified information to newcomers. He sends you a courtesy call, though," Vincent seemed to relax and reached into his trouser pocket. He pulled out a small notebook and flicked through the pages. It was a diary. The date said 230 O.B. "Ah, here it is. He told me to give you a message."

Zim snatched the diary and Benzaiten sprung forward, akin to a striking viper, quicker than she looked capable of, her rough hands tightening around Zim's arms and lifting him up in the air. "I wouldn't make any sudden moves if I were you, bean sprout. You're in way out of your league. Get it into your thick fucking skull; at this point in time, we are your superiors. Any stupid moves, and nothings gonna stop me decking you, or, if available, putting a shot through you."

Zim struggled in her grasp, kicking and squirming to try and loosen her iron grip.

Vincent shut his eyes and rested his hand on the boy's shoulder beside him. The boy was shaking. "Calm down, J.A.C.K. You aren't permitted to hurt the un-judged, Benny. Let him read the message."

Zim stuck his tongue out at the purple haired woman, still kicking in her grasp. "You heard him. Let me go, earth-monkey."

She huffed and dropped him brusquely, sitting herself down on the sofa and putting her feet up on the table. Her eyes met Vincent's and she let her head roll back as she brought out a cigarette and a lighter. As she lit it, the sound of a fan clicked on - Zim assumed it was some kind of ventilation for the smoke.

Zim looked at her with disgust, before bringing the diary to a readable level. It was in English -he couldn't read English very well. He could speak it, but reading it was a toil.

_Heard you made it. Sorry I couldn't be there to see your face when you saw Doctor West's operating table. Would have been one for the books. Gaz says hi, and asks if you wouldn't mind coming around to play Space Invaders if you pass your test. Which is unlikely. _

_Welcome to Ark, you filthy monster._

* * *

Zim had come with Vincent, leaving behind a rather irritated doctor and a cold mug of tea.

The street outside was clean, open, the air was fresh, but not cold and there was barely a breeze to tackle the heat of a summer's midday. The buildings here were two storeys high, made from a smooth white stone. Many of them had windows on both levels, but West's was the only one that did not. Each home had a driveway made out of the same pale stone as the pathways -which were only a shade or two darker than the buildings. The green lawns stood out, but not harshly. Some had flowers growing in pots, while others had a tree or vines climbing over fences or up walls. The cars that parked out of the way were not familiar.  
They had the same colour variety as Zim remembered humans to have, only they were sleek, low and streamline. Some had similar resemblances to typical car manufacturers on earth, while others were ambiguous. Some had tinted windows, some were long and others that broke the bank. One such car was waiting for Zim by the side of the road.

It was spotlessly silver with a body akin to an R8 or Giugiaro Mustang. The eight wheels were covered up from view and the grill was flat. The headlights appeared narrow, glaring forward like a wildcat. An oval shape on the front bonnet was clear, revealing a powerful engine within. The windscreen extended up to the middle of the car and was tinted black. The windows were merged with it. It took a while for Zim to realize it was the windscreen and windows and not part of the paint.

J.A.C.K hand opened the passenger door -it opened out and up-, Vincent gesturing to Zim to get in. As much as he sensed a trap, Zim complied, his seat rising by a couple of inches. To his surprise, he could view out of it as well as a normal pane of glass. He forgot that windows had been tinted for a brief second.

Vincent got in the other side, Benzaiten and J.A.C.K nestled into the back. Despite the machine looking like a super car, it was a four seater.

The inside was plain and elegant, with a silver and black theme, just like the exterior. A steering wheel -or, it seemed, the wheel at that of a Formula One race car- rose out of the dashboard on Vincent's side. He flicked the panels underneath either side of the wheel and the interior lit up. The buttons glowed in a gentle blue light, and the windscreen flickered, the word 'zephyrus' appeared in big, bold capitals for a few seconds. Down Vincet's side of the windscreen appeared virtual dials -a speedometer, a rev counter and a fuel dial. Between Zim and Vincent on the dash was an array of buttons and what seemed to be an iPod docking station. The time was displayed above it on an installed digital clock.

Zim stole a glance at the dials at Vincent's end: The fuel gouge read that the engine was full. The rev count was normal. The speedometer maxed out at eight hundred and forty kilometers per hour. There was a sudden lump of fear in his throat. That was fast.  
"Where are you taking me?" He asked in a neutral tone.

Vincent smiled at him and pointed forward. Beyond the low suburbs were towers unlike anything else Zim had ever seen. Massive, colossal structures, slowly getting taller and more impressive towards the middle, where a pair of dagger shaped metal buildings rose, high above the clouds. Not that many didn't reach that height. It was definitely much more than a couple miles high, multiple bridges connected the twin towers on different levels, and at the very top, a sphere shape hung between them. It was small from this distance, but it must have been at least ten or so miles across.  
Nausea churned inside of Zim just by looking at it.

"You have a very important date with a couple of very important people," Vincent caught eye contact with Zim, and just for a moment, Zim felt as if he could trust him. "One of those people being me."

* * *

**Second chapter up! I hope the plot will keep moving like this. I like this pace.  
****This chapter was really easy to write, and I had a hell of a time Google searching for cars to base the ZEPHYRUS of off, as well as the houses and the city skyline. **

**As a note, I really, really appreciate reviews. While I'll never hold a chapter to ransom for reviews, but I will stop writing if I feel that no-one is taking an interest just for convenience sake.**


	3. Enemy of Mine

There was not a moment during the past ten years that Dib had not wondered where Zim had been - why he'd suddenly left Earth, leaving his base and his malfunctioning robot behind him - and why he'd taken this long to make it through to the other side; to Ark. Five years went by after Zim had mysteriously vanished from his base. Over those five years, Dib had come to convince himself that the emotionally unstable extraterrestrial had either a) collapsed under the pressure of conquering Earth b) been called off of the job or c) killed himself on accident, since Zim wasn't the suicide type.

The other five years were spent here, working, living, trying not to let his mind wander to the alien, and why he hadn't come through yet. From what Dib could tell, Zim had done more to impact his world and others than he had, or half of the other people here. It was only natural that when news had spread to him that Zim had finally arrived (and word here spread rapidly) Dib wanted to be on the scene quicker than a wasp to honey.

"I should have been there, Gaz," Dib said through gritted teeth, his arms folded across his chest, standing by the massive window of his and Gaz's apartment. "I was in West's lab not a few hours before. It's just… not fair! How long has it been since I saw that monster's terrified face…" He turned and looked around at Gaz; she was sitting on a plush purple daybed, leaned forward with a games consol controller in her hands.

Her hair was punkish and styled; long bangs at the side of her face and a neat, straight cut fringe. The back of her hair was short and spiky, and she always smelled of hairspray. She wore dark purple skinny jeans, a cotton white dress shirt (three buttons undone) and an unzipped maroon jacket. After a few years she'd worn off the goth look, but it was still present in her attitude and she still wore clothes that made her look strong. Much more attractive than she'd previously been, due to female body changes, but strong.

"Shut up, Dib, you're distracting me," she growled, pulling the controller closer to her stomach, her fingers working at the controls.

Dib looked at the screen: it was three blackened windowpanes - the entire two outfacing walls of the main room were made of multiple massive glass panes - projecting a first person shooter game that he wasn't familiar with. There didn't seem to actually be a consol, and it appeared to be an online multiplayer, with the scored listed down the far right side. Gaz was currently on a winning streak.

"You need to get off these games soon, Gaz. Your eyes will go all squinted again. You got those fixed, remember?"

Gaz groaned. "I need to practice, Dib. If you haven't forgot, I've got the championship coming up in two months. If I don't win this time, I'm going to literally explode." She gave him a threatening sideways glance.

Dib had forgotten about that, he'd been so caught up with the long-awaited arrival (at least for him) of Zim that he temporarily forgot his own job, let alone his sister's. When she'd shot up to national gaming superstardom, Dib was all but surprised. At first he was slightly confused, thinking she'd gotten into sports. Turned out she'd become one of the best loved, critically exclaimed professional gamers. It took him a while to figure out that here, anything was possible. Including a professional career in gaming.

"Actually, now you mention jobs… I really should finish this report for Agent Esdras."

"You mean Stargra Banetta." Gaz interjected blandly.

Dib's face went blank. "How did you…?"

"I got her drunk and talked to her, that's how. I know all the Secret Service Agents real identities." Gaz sat up straight, keeping her eyes on the game. She was probably only playing at half capacity, since she tended not to be very good at multitasking. "Seriously though, the Secret Service is hardily a secret. Everybody knows who's in it, and everybody keeps out of their way. The only thing secret about them is where their base is and what they do."

There was a moment of silence, or almost silence with the sound of virtual gunfire in the background. Dib stood, watching Gaz with a mix of apprehension and amazement. It was true, however, that the only thing secret about the Secret Service was what they did and who ran the business, however it was pretty easy to guess who it was once you understood the hierarchy of the gods.

When Vincent had offered Dib a position in the field, there was no way he could have turned down the proposal. Being out with fellow agents and solving backstreet crimes that civilians ought to not know about, searching for evidence of the paranormal and being paid? A great hefty sum, no less. Dib had quickly fallen in love with Ark, and had been assigned his code name. Even though he'd literally begged to keep Agent Moth-Man, Vincent had told him that the name was to be as seemingly normal and yet random as possible, and thus Dib went from Agent Moth-man to Agent Ezekiel. There was, not including himself or Agent Esdras aka Stargra Banetta, eight agents in the Secret Service. A low number for a place with a estimated population of around ten billion.

Dib stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans - his trench coat hanging on the rack in the hallway. "I guess so. Whatever, I'll leave you to your game, Gaz. Wouldn't want you failing for world champion again."

Gaz growled again. "Shut up Dib, before I throttle you and throw you off the balcony. In case you hadn't notice, we're twenty seven floors up." The controller came closer to her stomach again and she leaned in, biting her lip in concentration. "An when has it been world champion? There's no such thing, moron. It's just champion."

Before he ended up aggravating her even more, Dib decided the leave her alone. About as alone as he could, anyway.

The front room was made up of a contemporary living space with a purple theme - the daybed Gaz sat on and the two sofas that faced each other from either side of the daybed with a coffee table in between. A kitchen space with a black and white theme - a bar counter made of black and white marble to serve and prepare on as well as a separate fridge and freezer, a gas cooker, dishwasher, tumble dryer and a washing machine under another set of counters behind it along with appliances and drawers - and also a dinning section, which actually happened to be ten or so stalls at the counter. All that was on the side closer to both outfacing walls. The rest was open space, usually for the parties Gaz hosted on weekends. There was one thing that remained the same; the consistent bay coloured wood flooring. Even the drawers were made of the same wood.

Out of all that space, the kitchen/dinner area was Dib's favourite. Usually sitting on the sofas meant sitting in silent watching Gaz play violent video games, unless they had guests over which meant he'd probably be made to play too.

Dib sat on one of the leather stools and pulled out a small device from his pocket - an earpiece. He put it in and tapped a number in on the interactive interface which appeared on the counter. A ringing began in his ears as he dialled a number registered under 'Agent Leviticus'.

"Ah, Zeke, how many times do I have to tell you to use my casual number if you want to chat? It's not like we don't know each other." The voice was young, slightly quiet, but overall friendly and warming. "Sometimes I wonder if you're embarrassed to be my friend."

Dib laughed. "Don't put yourself down, dude, I only called you on this number because I want to ask some questions. Anyway, we've never meet in person before."

The voice sighed. "It's about Zim, isn't it? Well there's not much to tell really. He arrived at the Palace a few minutes ago looking rather… terrified. He was quiet the whole journey." There was a light chuckle.

Dib blinked a couple of times, slightly surprised. "Wait, you were there with Vincent when he picked him up from West's?" That was strange. Dib was usually by Vincent's side when it came to picking up newcomers. He wasn't the only one, sure, Stargra and Benzaiten - code named Agent Esther - were also common backups for Vincent. However, Leviticus had yet to be on one.

"Maybe, maybe not. I have my sources. There was an interesting party member there, though. Vincent's own automaton, J.A.C.K. He's never usually seen outside of the San Palace top floors or the Golden Court." Leviticus went quiet for a moment, letting Dib ponder over the significance of that information.

"The Judicious Automaton of the Celestial King himself…" Dib whispered under his breath.

"Maybe you ought to head over to the Palace, I'm sure Vincent could use a hand now that Agent Esther isn't with him any more. Apparently she asked to be dropped of at the Pavilions District a few kilometres south of the Palace." Leviticus' voice had changed to a more subtle, urging tone.

"Oh, so Benny was with him too?" That was odd. Having both J.A.C.K and a member of the Secret Service at his aid. The more he listened to this, the more he was convinced there was more behind Zim's arrival than he first thought. Maybe the alien himself knew what was going on. "Maybe I _should _visit them. I can probably beam there before the test starts. If I get there too late for questions I could probably just indulge myself a little…"

"You're that adamant he'll fail? I've heard what you've said about him and I don't see any of it in him - a burning passion for conquest, insanity, criminal mastermind. He seems dead as a doorknob. That and we wouldn't be having this conversation if he was, you know… nuts." Leviticus paused. "He'd be in completely different hands, out of His Grace's jurisdiction. Even out of His Absolute's reach."

His Absolute. There weren't many things out of His Absolute's reach, and unfortunately, insanity was one of them - which meant Dib had been foolish to believe that Zim was insane at this point. The alien would have been on the deck of the Sultan if that had been the case, and he'd still be here, wondering when he was going to show up. Dib had overlooked that fact entirely.

The Sultan. The antithesis to Ark.

There wasn't much else to say. "What do you think, Levi? _Should _I go over to see what's happening? I mean, we can work outside of His Grace's business. I don't think he's in a position to mind much."

Leviticus exhaled heavily again and let the conversation hang while he thought. His warm voice soon returned. "Sure, Agent Ezekiel. We need eyes here. I can't give you much more backup. You'll be allowed into the Sphere and into the Court easier than I." The call ended.

Dib breathed out noisily, running a hand through his hair and checking that it was still jagged. It had grown longer before and, even though he was growing ever more proud of his gravity-defying hair, he had to keep it at a reasonable length. He didn't want to remind himself of Zim's cruel trick.

He looked back at Gaz and realized, suddenly, that compared to her he hadn't changed a bit. His voice had gotten deeper - hers hand deepened very slightly, becoming more feminine yet still fierce - and he stood roughly five foot eight inches tall, which he was rather proud of. Unfortunately, Gaz was a few inches above average female height, being five foot seven without her heels.

He still prized his trench coat - it was amazing what re-sizing agents could do - and was simply dressed in neutral colours. Compared to him, Gaz was like a Christmas tree of calm colours, or, when she felt like it, warm ones. She was bright, no matter where she was or what she was doing.

"Where are you going," Gaz asked as Dib approached the door. She checked the clock; 12:50 pm

Dib ignored the fact she wasn't looking at him when she said that. "Didn't you just hear the conversation, Gaz?"

She shook her head without a sound. "Nope, not one bit."

He pushed the door open soundlessly, not wanting to continue the conversation further. That, and if he exited quickly enough he might just be able to avoid-

"Dib's going out? Without _me?_ Take me with you, take me with yoou!" The voice was metallic, over excited and loud. "We can make muffins and toast eggs on the bonnet of the car!"

Gaz grunted. "You can't toast eggs, GIR."

* * *

Zim had seen some highways in his life, but none seemed to match the complexity and the scale of those in the city. The one he was currently on was a mile above sea level and cutting through the sky, directly through the centre of a neon super city seemingly taken out of a typical science fiction novel; the buildings were tall and sleek, made out of metal and not concrete. All advertising was blazed rather obnoxiously on floating projection screens to the side of the road. Billboards glowed in fabulous colours on the side of skyscrapers, both big and small.

Zim couldn't help but notice the multiple other highways above and bellow him. Some swooped right down low over them, that looked like the bottom would kiss the roof of a lorry if it drove underneath - multiple times had Zim held his breath.

Despite their breakneck speed, the pressure in the car was no different to being in one travelling fifty miles an hour and not three hundred and fifty. It seemed to be the maximum speed on these gigantic six-lane roadways. Even then there were few cars that could actually get up to the maximum speed that were affordable to the public unless they happened to be a billionaire, which, truth be told, didn't seem to be all that uncommon.

Benzaiten had been dropped off a few minutes before, and J.A.C.K sat quietly in the back with his eyes shut. That boy gave Zim the shudders for some reason.

Vincent looked at Zim briefly, observing the rather pale and shocked expression on his face. He noticed that his claws were digging into the side of the chair, although refrained from pummelling him for ripping the leather. "Something bothering you? This all a little too much too soon?"

"Everything… so much taller… than Zim," he whispered, pushing back into his seat. _Be glad you're not as small as GIR. _GIR. Zim had completely forgot about his ADHD robot companion. A tightening began inside of him - shame. How could he have forgotten? Was he here, or back home or… Zim realized just how many questions he had to ask.

Vincent stifled a laughed. "Ha! Now that's a good one. Usually people just sit back, stare, and don't stop gasping about it," he said in an overly joyous tone, as if putting on a show. In truth he sort of was.

There was a turn off coming up that led up onto a higher roadway. Vincent indicated for it, his eyes lingering on the sign. The tension in his body seemed to melt away. "San Palace, that's our destination. How funny that every newcomer has to go through my home? It was rather annoying at first, but the flow of people is less than two a week now."

Zim looked up at Vincent. "You live in a palace?" His voice was a little louder.

"Yeah, sure. Why'd you think I get called 'Your Grace' all the time? I'm not a courier or a taxi service, Zim. One of the first people most of the newcomers meet is me - Vincent Szark. I was king here a while back, still am, many of the populous living in the city were around when Ark - this place you're in - was something much more than just a world." Vincent slapped himself on the wrist and cursed under his breath.

One of Zim's antennae rose at the gesture. "You stupid earth-monkey, what was that for?" He'd avoid giving Vincent the pleasure of explaining his kingdom for now.

"My wife told me I need to stop speaking so melodramatically -" Vincent paused as they joined the flow of traffic heading towards the city centre "- so I hit myself lightly to alert myself to over dramatized speech. Ah!" Vincent pointed as a building loomed up ahead of them. The double dagger towers. "Home!"

Zim felt something in him twist nervously as he forced himself to gaze up at the buildings. They had been massive from a distance but now, up close, they were seemingly impossible. They were wide, and thick metal cables came down from the sky, probably anchored into the ground to keep the building steady. They were simple buildings, but they were untouched by advertisements - actually, it seemed the many massive towers towards the city centre were untouched.

"How big is that thing?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Zim froze, and then nodded slowly. "I asked you a question, so I do expect an answer."

A laugh escaped Vincent as he turned off of the road and onto a one lane bridge spiralling down towards a security gate at the base of one of the towers. "Okay, if you're sure. It's about one thousand three hundred and fifty miles high."

Zim quickly changed the subject. "What's the name of this city again?"

"It's Vita. Do you know what that means?" Vincent tried to hide the fact he was laughing inside at the obvious fear in Zim's voice.

"I don't speak dead earth-monkey languages," Zim proclaimed, crossing his arms and turning away in disgust. He felt almost sick being asked the translation - he could only just stand English, so why he'd know a dead language was anybody's guess, let alone know it was an Earth language.

Vincent was going to tell him anyway, it was almost like a procedure. That and he was pretty proud of its simplicity. "It means life. Vita is Latin for life."

* * *

Vincent had taken care of the security quickly. The men in uniforms had bowed respectively and let them through. They seemed to go underground, entering a massive white space. They parked directly in the centre, and with a flick of the panels, the car shut down and the two front doors opened -out and up. Once they got out, the car doors shut and the impressive vehicle began to rise on a hydraulic system in the floor. The ceiling opened up to receive it, probably carrying up to a higher level.

There were hundreds of thick five foot by five foot concrete pillars holding the roof up over their heads - Zim didn't want to think what would happen if just one of them failed to support the massive building above. He followed Vincent closely, keeping his eyes on him and studying him. The tall man walked with pride. His strides were confident and soundless, his head up high and his shoulders back. Vincent reminded Zim of the Almighty Tallests. Anger boiled up in him; he didn't want to think about them right now. Zim looked over his shoulder to see J.A.C.K, still keeping quite, trailing behind them.

Installed in an even bigger seven foot by seven foot pillar was an elevator door that slid open as Vincent got close. He let Zim and J.A.C.K through first before stepping in himself. It wasn't like a regular elevator - the sheer size was proof enough. Two pale blue sofas were placed against opposite walls, and there were two vending machines installed in the wall. The elevator itself was five foot by five foot, the wall of the elevator was probably half a foot to accommodate the vending machines and the gap between the outside and the shaft.

"What is with you people?" Zim clambered onto one of the sofas. "What's with all this useless luxury? Two vending machines and two sofas, what's up with that?"

J.A.C.K sat next to Zim, the boy closed his eyes and he became unresponsive.

Vincent pressed the number three on a touch screen menu. They were on floor minus five. "You won't need to use those for now. We're going up to the reception. Someone would like to see you before we proceed to the Sphere, and from there to the Court. The journey from the reception to the top will take... a while." A smug look appeared on Vincent's face - which seemed to be growing ever more friendly to Zim. "This thing will go faster than any car if it needs to, about as fast as a train. Still takes one and a quarter hours to get to the top."

"I feel sorry for the earth-monkey that uses the stairs," Zim said mockingly.

"Oh, there are no stairs." And the elevator began to move. The clock read 12:58 pm

* * *

"Damn you, Gaz. You just asked where I was going so I'd have to bring GIR with me," Dib fumed angrily as he strolled around in the cafeteria on the third floor of the San Palace - formal, white, high-roofed and expensive. The chairs, however, at least gave colour to the place with rich blues and golds. Everything was controlled by thoughts instead of touch screens and interfaces here, to keep the security impeccable. It made finding staff dubious though - trust was everything in this building.

"Heh. You're such a moron, Dib. You should have just kept on walking," Gaz responded through an ear piece similar to the one Dib had used to phone Leviticus fifteen minutes ago.

GIR was jumping around the seating area, which was thankfully empty. He was also staying away from the windows overlooking the city, which was another added bonus. Last time he'd launched himself out of one because a dove had flown past and he wanted it to be his friend. It seemed that not being able to stop an ADHD robot smashing two panes of triple glazed windows didn't count as an accident.

Dib grabbed a lightly coloured tray from a dispenser, glad that he'd spent the implant fee on that level one interactive brain interface - it let him buy food and activate public computers inside the palace, but that was all he could have gotten from the sixty crowns he'd spent on it (horrified that that was equivalent to ninety three thousand seven hundred and thirty seven dollars. But then again, the average wage was forty five crowns crowns per year, and he earned just under double that.). He bought a coffee - a dash of milk and two sugars - as well as a soda for GIR, who had been screaming about it since they'd arrived. Beaming wasn't the best way to travel - having every atom taken apart and blasted across the sky on a laser trail? - it usually left him out of energy.  
He looked at the clock - 1:05 pm. He'd beamed in at 12:51 and had taken two minutes to travel to the reception. He'd been here for seven minutes and there was still no sign of Vincent and Zim.

Dib sat down and beckoned GIR over with the soda. The little robot totted over, before snatching it from Dib. "Thanks!" GIR screamed happily, before he climbed up on the seat next to Dib.

Gaz chuckled. "It's good to have him out of the house. You know Dib... I'd rather be there right now, just because I'd love to see you and Zim yell at each other. That was always amusing."

Dib was unsure how to respond, so decided not to try. After a couple of minutes sitting and sipping hot coffee, it seemed like something was finally happening in the reception. The usual, airy sound of an elevator opening had him out of his seat in seconds, however, the sound of heels clicking against the floor quickly dashed any hopes of it being Zim.  
A resounding disappointment clenched at his heart. By now his patience had begun to grow thin. He considered going back to the apartment and enduring Gaz's somehow victorious taunting, as if it was a game. That, or he could try to get in Sphere. Without a god or one of the Angelic to take him up, however, entering would be hard.

"Stark? What in the blazes are you doing here? Shouldn't you be... gods, you could have at least worn a suit."

Dib was enticed again. That was the voice of a female, and a voice one didn't forget easily. It was light, and rung out like bells. A formal, typical posh British accent slid itself in between vowels. He exited the reception and stood, amazed. It was the woman who, currently and forever, would hold the highest IQ of any living being, and was only recognizable because she'd managed to stop her out of control shapeshifting.  
And there, chatting up the lady at the desk, was a tall man with a sarcastic smile and neatly trimmed facial hair. In an iron suit painted red and gold.

"Ah, Ultimate Age, still as gorgeous as ever, I see. And conservative," Tony Stark said. "And for the record, I am wearing a suit."

Ultimate stepped back and threw her hands up, her swimming fire opal eyes were wide with shock. "I meant a shirt and tie and blazer, not an _Iron Man suit._" She relaxed, her hands dropping to her sides. She had deep, dark ginger hair that was curled softly. Her skin was pale, completely juxtaposed by her dark red and black pin stripe suit. She was short - very short - at about four foot nine inches. However, she was in possession of unlimited intelligent, able to solve the hardest of problems with minimal thinking. Destructive, demanding, and never to be messed with.

Dib plucked up the courage to interject. "Mr Stark, Miss Age," he greeted them politely. "It's been a while, Stark. Word was you'd taken time off of work."

"Much to Pepper's chagrin obviously," Tony winked at him and then turned back to Ultimate, his suit whirring all the while. "I could ask the same thing about you, Miss Age."

"I'm dressed appropriately."

"No, about why you're here." Tony glance at Dib and then back to Ultimate. "Assuming I've thought this through, Dib isn't here on official because a) there isn't anything paranormal here neither has there been a murder and b) if he was he'd probably be with Szark. Now, you Ultimate are looking for a student - someone with a lot of room to learn - and guess what? I'm here for that very same reason, now, Dib," Tony said in his best 'I'm so clever' tone of voice, "What about you?" Almost out of nowhere, Tony lifted up an ice poll and bit off a chunk.

"I'm uh... here to see Zim." Dib couldn't lie to Tony, the two were friends at the least.

"Well then, my guess is that we all are." There was a hint of that devilish charm in Tony's eyes. "However, I think me and Miss Age will have a bit of... contesting to do, while you're here just to get off on the little guy's failure, we know Zim's smart from what you told us. We just want to know how smart, and if he has the aptitude for putting it to good use."

Dib stepped back and gazed at the two geniuses. It was true that ever since Tony Stark had arrived on the scene and built a Stark Industries tower literally next door to San Palace, him and Ultimate had been competing for sales of defenses (both offensive weapons and actual defensive technology), science developments and energy sources. The two were business rivals, with nothing in common with each other outside of business either. They didn't like each other - Ultimate with her holier-than-thou attitude and 'small person syndrome', and Tony with his blunt, playboy rich boy life style -, and they would always want what the other did too, out of spite.

And here they were, both out for the same thing; to bring on board Zim as their apprentice.

* * *

**Chapter three up! Seems to move slower here, I might want to extend the length of these chapters, which might mean slower updates. Also, Tony Stark! \O3O/ (Need more info on OCs? Check out my profile if you wish!)**

**Gaz, Dib and GIR have finally showed up, and I've already got a few questions popping up here and there, like what the hell is with the money system. It's not too complex;**

**One crown = £100  
One medallion = £20 OR £50 (four or two for a crown)  
One diadem = £5 OR £10 (twenty or ten for a crown)  
Medal = £1 or bellow ((5p, 10p, 20p, 50p for bellow) one hundred for a crown or other)**

**Convert pounds into dollars for dollar/celestial conversion. **

**(I know who Leviticus is).**

**Reviews are treasured, guys! Don't care how long, negative, positive, just be constructive if you can. I'll make sure to repay the favour.**


	4. Walk Among Gods

**Sorry this took a while to update, I got really badly sunburned and when I'm in pain I generally don't focus very well, and a sudden heat wave meant my laptop was over heating and shutting down ten minutes or so after I'd turned it on. Hopefully my sunburn goes and this weather lets up and I'll get back to normal!**

**Loved the sudden increase of reviews guys (I feel motivated now -before and after sunburn)! **

* * *

The tension in the reception must have increased one hundred fold as another elevator opened and Vincent stepped out with Zim and J.A.C.K. Dib's eyes went wide, looking through Ultimate and Tony, who proceeded to turn to see the three new additions to the room. As Vincent proceeded to do the usual routine - check in with the receptionist to say that they were here so the security system didn't blow them up - it seemed like all Hell was about it brake lose.

Dib's face painted a picture of fury. "Why are you here, why now, Zim? What took you so damned long, stopped at the _fucking _service station?" He marched up to Zim, straight pass Vincent who turned to try and stop him. The extraterrestrial simply stood, glaring up at the fully grown Dib. "You left me! Out of the blue with no idea as to where you'd gone or why. Do you know what that's like? Trying so hard to reveal a person for the monster they are, and they just go ahead and _leave_? For two years of my life I'd tried to protect the Earth from you and you, you…" Dib looked at Vincent, then to Tony and Ultimate. He let out an exasperated sigh and looked back down at Zim, his eyes filled with pity. "Why are you even _here_. You don't belong in this place."

"You don't get it, Dib-stink. I didn't chose to leave, I was taken, captured. I would have gladly stayed to annihilate you and to complete my mission," Zim hissed harshly. Then his tone changed and he relaxed, lowering his gaze. "But it doesn't matter now. I'm not the Irken I thought I was."

Dib took a step back and pointed at Zim. "Look! See, Tony! He's a monster, just like I told you. Goddamnit, Szark, he's not supposed to be here."

J.A.C.K finally spoke. "Dib, Sir, you have a problem with hearing only want you want to, not what you need to." The automaton's voice was distantly familiar. The boy so rarely spoke that his voice was generally hard to remember, and when he did speak, it was usually the truth - that and it turned the heads of all who are present.

"I don't care, J.A.C.K! Why are you even here? Zim's still evil, I know him better than any of you, so just shut up and listen to me," Dib's voice was raised, echoing around the empty space. Even the receptionist was fiddling with her pen awkwardly. Dib grabbed one of Zim's antenna, yanking him forward and then pushing, making Zim fall back.

The Irken's teeth ground tightly as Dib's firm hand closed around the sensitive organ, his eyes went wide and then closed firmly. He didn't even try to break his own fall.

Ultimate winced as if she was in pain - Vincent's hands twitched and he looked to one side. "Fuck…" Ultimate whispered, lifting one hand to touch her ear as she did so. The woman's hearing started to buzz in the aftermath of the high-pitched scream that had forced its way out between the ex-Invader's sharp teeth.

Tony took a single step forward and got a hold of Dib's arm, dragging him back as J.A.C.K lent a hand to Zim to help him to his feet again. "You know Rax could take that as pre judgement of a newcomer. You know fully well what the minimal term served for that offence is."

Dib looked aghast. "So you're defending him now? What's with you people, why are you defending him, he's a criminal!"

Vincent took his place by J.A.C.K's side, giving the receptionist a 'forget the formalities' look. For a moment, nothing was said, but Vincent had obviously used the silence as a time to think. When he spoke, the words hit home. "We don't defend newcomers as if they are white as doves - as a god I am a member of the Greys. All members of higher society must by grey, including you Dib. Until Rax decides otherwise, our job is to make sure no harm comes to new arrivals, delivering them safely to Court where they will be judged," Vincent's voice was strong. He smacked himself on the wrist, making Zim stifle a laugh. "Fuck… you know how the rules work, Dib. It was the same for you, Tony, West, and everybody else that made it through the Nexus and it will not be any different for Zim. Try to infringe upon that, the sentence is three years behind bars. This is not about liking Zim, or defending him. It's about the rules. You should know them by now." Vincent turned towards the elevator once again, beckoning Zim and to come with him.

J.A.C.K looked to his master and nodded, staying behind to await their return.

A few seconds later, Tony followed them. He met Vincent's eye. The god nodded and Tony did a little jive before entering the open elevator door in true style.

"You can come too, you know." Vincent waved his hand at Ultimate and Dib. "But you need to leave your petty childhood rivalry at the door to do so."

Ultimate turned away and walked towards a different elevator and hailed it up. She turned to face them, her face still as professional and chiselled as ever. "He's all yours, Stark. I'm not going to waste my time on the words of a boy." She stepped into her elevator and proceeded towards ground level.

Dib watched her go, deflecting her words. She was as sharp as a snake, that woman, and he'd grown used to it and respected it. He made the decision to go with Vincent, making sure to sit as far away from Zim as possible, and not to make eye contact.

He realized that this would be his first time since he'd arrived that he'd be up in the tower's higher storeys - to the Palace levels, then the Sphere, followed by a short, tense trip all the way to the Golden Court of The Gods.

* * *

Zim and Dib stayed quiet all the way up. For one and a quarter hours, they did little other than have a drink of soda from one of the vending machines. Vincent and Tony, however, were getting on like a house on fire. It took them very little time to forgive each other after Vincent had made it apparent that he liked Ultimate just as much as he liked Tony - although Vincent made it clear that it was only when she was out of her business mode that she had any charm.

They talked about serious commerce. Ultimate, Tony and the Iron Sights Corp were the main weapons and defensive dealers around that could be trusted.

"You know I'd rather buy tech from you than the others, but they get the job done faster, Tony. Iron Sights built the Razorback gyro-gun, Ultimate's already drawn up workable blueprints for a deflector and you? You're still tinkering with the suit." Vincent sighed, leaning against the wall of the elevator, pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. "As much as I like you as a friend, you've been lacking for three months straight. Soon Tenji won't even look at Stark Industries for defensive solutions."

Tony had gotten the suit off - dressed semi-respectably underneath in a black dress shirt and jeans and casual shoes. He grinned awkwardly. "Genius can't be focused in me, Vinny. Just hold out a little longer, I've got something in the oven that'll probably give volcano-head Ultimate something to get anxious about."

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. They stepped out into a wide, lush space that was clean, modern and obtusely modest. It was a complicated floor with ample, doorless frames the led into other spaces. The company were currently in the observatory; one wall was completely glass, triple glazed and missile proof, overlooking a vivid neon city. Beyond it was the low, comfortable suburbs and further still were dramatic rolling hills of a lush countryside, dotted with warming hamlets and villages to escape the neo-futuristic Vita. Gigantic mountains -still lower than some of the taller buildings- rose up in the very distance.

A woman walked in from a doorway beside the elevator, bare-footed, wearing frayed denim shorts and a white shoulder-hanging shirt the exposed a flat, pierced belly. She walked with pride and casual dignity, and she gave off a similar aura, despite her dress sense.

She smiled warmly at Vincent, embracing him in a loving hug.

Zim made the connection. "So you're this… _wife _my escort mentioned earlier?" If there was one thing Zim had never 'researched' during his time on Earth it was the mating traditions of humans. But then, he realized, these two weren't human.

The woman leaned back slightly, her hands slipping to Vincent's forearms. She rolled his eyes at him. "Do you never stop stalking about me," she teased tapping him on the nose. Then she pulled away gently letting her hands slip out of his.

"Only once, he mentioned a 'wife'. He seemed to imply that he's emotions towards you were… deeper than most relationships go. I made an educated guess, is all." Zim said rather insipidly. He proceeded to follow Tony through the rooms of the living palace's first level - there were still five more above them - flanked closely by Dib.

The living space was tidy, with a running theme of white and a singular colour that varied from room to room. They had passed a dinner/kitchen with a theme of white and bronze, a living room that was white and blue, a long hall of white and purple and from a quick glance, an extended extra dining room with a theme of black and white. Only when they arrived at a heavily locked and defended door did anyone begin to speak again.

Vincent hung at the back of the group, his arm locked with the blonde's. "Hey, Zim, come here a sec," he said in his trustworthy, middle-toned voice.

Zim turned and went over to the two without a fuss. "Yes?"

Dib pretended not to be suspicious about the unusually simple way in which Zim had begun to act; there was no shouting, no erratic and abnormal tones to his voice when he spoke. Everything about him had become less enthusiastic. Less… Zim.

"I just thought I should properly acquaint you with my partner." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure why I didn't do it back in the observatory actually…"

"Vinny, you're nattering again," the blonde prompted light-heartedly. She knelt down and extended a hand in greeting. "I'm Claire Szark; Matriarch of the family and Minister of Defence."

Once again, Zim refused a handshake. Dib was sure it was to do with the time they both turned into boloney, via a pin Zim had used to infect Dib. Then he'd gone and infected Zim via the common manner of greeting or congratulating. It wasn't everyday one developed an irrational fear of handshakes.

Claire smiled and stood, reaching for a cupboard of yew wood on the wall. She pulled out a pair of two inch heels and slipped them on as Tony opened the door before them.

Vincent laughed. "Always heels?"

"Always."

The door lead onto what looked like a cable car, dangling within a metal and glass arch, slowly rising over a thousand miles above the ground, up towards the Sphere - a giant, slowly rotating orb coloured bronze, held in place only by the two cable car arch's that lead towards it.

Tony and Dib stepped into the car first, taking their seats on one of the two benches placed either side. Dib sat closest to the other door, making sure that he didn't have to sit next to Zim. Tony sat beside him. Vincent paused to let Claire through. She took a place opposite Dib.

"Now, I want you to know that the people your about to meet aren't going to be as kind as me," Vincent said gently, touching a finger to Zim's shoulder as he passed into the car. "They are powerful, many are egotistical and proud. None of them are human, and I want you to know that."

Zim frowned, refusing to look up at Vincent. "What purpose did telling me that serve?"

"It served as a warning. You obvioulys have an inability to sense difference. You've been in the company of two gods for five minutes and you never knew."

"I knew you were. A _'god'_." Zim walked away from the Sovereign, jumping up to sit next to Claire. "Irkens do not concern themselves with religion. We find such illusions pitiable."

Vincent sat next to Zim, looking over to Claire and tensing. The door to the cable car shut and a low humming began as the car moved forward steadily. Vincent sighed and caught eye contact with Zim. "There are no religions here."

The small extraterrestrial laughed, crossing his arms. "There are the other 'gods'. Deities always spring up from primitive beliefs. What are they? Stone caricatures of the elements? Your title's probably just a privilege."

Vincent felt a pulsing on the back of his neck. "I hope you won't get scared once we step out the cable car," he said threateningly.

Claire crossed her legs and sat back. She laughed a good while before stopping and catching her breath. "Oh yes, yes, this place was built by humans. Yep, because humans are totally born with the All Seeing Eye on the back of their necks. Look at you, Zim. In this place, boundaries marking the impossible will only leave you stranded. The impossible happens every day."

Zim decided not to humour her with an answer, instead he smirked, and wondered what hoaxes awaited him in the Sphere. He looked up an noticed Tony and Dib, sitting on their bench with furious smiles painted across their faces.

It took fifteen minutes to get to the Sphere. And when the doors opened, Zim was more than a little disappointed. The interior of the Sphere was indeed vast; at first it had filled him with a sense of overwhelming futility. But it was inanimate, so there was no need to feel so useless. The wall was at least twenty metres thick, made out of some tough, dull metal he had never seen before.

Vincent and Claire led the ground across a narrow white walkway, roughly six foot wide, with a stomach-curling drop beneath it. At the centre was a circular platform, to which this walkway - and another similar on the other side - connected to. It was as plain and flat as the surface they walked on, however, at the middle was a domed rise of about a foot, with a flat top. The flat was a few feet across, with a ring of gold light around the edge, and a similar coloured light shone from the centre, all the way up to the pinnacle of the Sphere in a shaft no wider than a streetlight pole.

Vincent smiled at the sight of it. "Isn't it just beautiful?" He halted the troupe at the point the walkway widened to become part of the circle.

Zim squeezed between Tony and Claire, watching intently as Vincent walked towards the light. He stood before it, not touching or reaching for it. The air seemed alive, buzzing lightly, almost as if it were sentient.

"Ultimate's first beamer. Arguable her most efficient and most powerful," Vincent informed, looking back at the group. His gaze was rapt. After a few seconds that seemed to take forever, Vincent summoned them forward. Zim was the first to his side.

He reached out, curious but sceptic. Vincent slapped his hand, glaring at him with irritation in his eyes.

"Me and Claire will go up first, then you and Dib. Tony will make sure you don't do anything stupid, like fight or try and enter at the same time." He stepped forward into the light quicker than Zim could keep track of; he seemed to blur as he made contact, his physical form breaking up as the beam carried him towards their destination. Vincent's sentence seemed half complete, and Claire made it whole.

"If you do, you'll most likely end up swapping body parts, but internal and external. That happened once, nasty business," she said casually. She laughed nervously at the memory, before it faded comically and she turned, falling into it backwards.

Dib gave Zim a sideways glare, before grinning deliberately as he met Zim's eye. "Your turn, Zim."

Zim folded his arms. "After you, earth-monkey."

"Oh no, ladies first, I insist."

Tony laughed. "Okay girls, settle down. Dib, you go first, the first letter of your name in earlier on in the alphabet."

"What's that got to do with anything," Dib asked after a short pause. He had raised an eyebrow at his much loved friend.

Tony shrugged lazily. "Oh, nothing. Just gives it a bit of order to the…uh…order. Off you go." A light in Tony's eyes were playful, joking. Dib so no reason not to go.

After he'd beamed, Tony looked down at Zim with a reassuring smile. The tall superhero touched his fingertip to Zim's shoulder like Vincent had done. "It really only hurts as much as a poke in the eye." He winked at him and stood back a step. "As soon as you're ready, please jump into the fray."

Zim smiled weakly, finding no reason to not just… step into the light.

* * *

It didn't hurt like a poke in the eye. It hurt like being punched in the face by an animated teddy bear. The journey was short, strange. For a moment he felt as if he were an omniscient being, with no physical limit, a feeling of both terror and energy. His shape ever changing, the atoms that made him up were split and travelling along this subspace pathway. What he saw in that beam was hard to describe - it was like golden electricity, laced with the colours of fire and licks of ice blue, a tiny spec of light in the distance, that grew closer and closer until in engulfed him.

The feeling of being wrenched down from a great height came over him, making his head spin. The feeling of physicality came back slowly as the atoms put themselves back together. It was a horrid, enclosed feeling - a feeling of being trapped, anchored to a place and a time.

He watched himself come back together, pieced into place like a jigsaw puzzle. The sound of a buzz began, slowly escalating in volume, rising, becoming fierce until it was an overwhelming roar.

Then it silenced, and Zim felt himself step out, Tony following him close behind.

His mind was reeling and his hands were shaking, but not with the adrenaline from the journey. He was frozen, immobile, at the palatial room before him, filled with the voices of hundreds of people - singing and talking, humming and laughing.

The ceiling of the room was arched like the inside of a church, climbing above them to a dizzying height. The very apex of the roof, however, was flat.

Vincent and Claire stood among the crowd as giants, both of them surpassing six feet tall, mingling among the towers of people - scores of them, hundreds upon hundreds of figures dressed in white and gold suits and dresses, with hints of silver and amethyst at the throats, ankles and wrists of all the females. The men had intricate patterns stitched into the backs and shoulders of their blazers in the same colours, the silver distinguished from the white only by the way it shone in the light, the purple made into tight petal shapes, of different consistency and shape from man to man.

Every one of them wore a band of silver on the middle fingers of both hands, with a line of gold through the middle.

The crowd were gathered around a long, sleek glass table that cut through the length of the room. The seats had high backs, made out of a white material Zim was unfamiliar with. At one end, Claire and Vincent took their place behind their seats as Sovereign and Matriarch. The others stood in their places, and at the other end of the table, a podium rose. Atop it was a high-backed throne, reaching up to the ceiling, engraved with winged figures and enticing patterns in silver. In that chair sat a man of average height, with choppy white hair, and eyes as red as fresh blood.

To either side were two seats of equal height; high backs, only half that of the throne on which the man sat. The one on the left was empty, but the one of the right was not.

Dib let his jaw drop, his eyes wide in shock. He pointed, incomprehensible noises of half-finished words rolled off of his tongue, when finally, something legible ended his hysterical rambling.

"Gaz?"

* * *

**Hooray, chapter four is here finally! There's a lot of description here, I know, I know. Still liking the pace.  
**

**Okay, question time, it's the obvious one really, but why do you think Gaz is in the right throne, and how'd she get there, and just who will be in the left throne (And where the hell will Dib and Tony sit?)? (Staff entrance, duh.) Once again, Gaz continues to amaze Dib with her efficiency of getting around. **

******Reviews are treasured, guys! Don't care how long, negative, positive, just be constructive if you can. I'll make sure to repay the favour.**


	5. This Moment, This Second

**Please guys, reviews are really treasured, and I will review one of your stories in return because it's only fair. It really helps me write quicker and makes me happy! Please, feel free to ask questions, answer them, predict or anything else! Tell me what you liked, didn't like, I care about these things.**

* * *

There was very little room for doubt; Gaz was sitting upon the Silver Throne, still dressed the way she'd been when Dib had seen her last. For someone sitting on the Silver Throne, she was very calm. She almost seemed unaffected about the entire situation. Her face portrayed the very image of boredom, suggesting she'd been here for some time, waiting. When Dib had sat on the throne to judge Gaz, he'd been terrified - of both her and with the fear of doing something wrong, which was pretty hard considering what judging consisted of.

Dib scratched the side of his head, puzzled. He looked to Zim, seeing that he was almost as confused as he was. "Um, not to be rude or anything, but why is Gaz sitting on the Silver Throne?"

One of the gods turned around, a female dressed in a suit, with a wide, entertained grin. She leaned against her. A big, dark skinned male next to her placed his hand upon her shoulder. That didn't stop Benzaiten from laughing. "Ha! You're an original."

"Quiet, Benny, before you say something stupid." The man's voice was deep and strong, suiting of his heavily built frame.

"Pffft, whatever Susan. I'll get nothing out of teasing the big-headed freak anyway." She rolled her eyes and grudgingly turned away.

The big man - dwarfing even the giants at around seven foot eight in height - gave Dib a plain, straight nod and turned away from them, his eyes drifting to the man on the middle throne, or formally known as the Golden Throne.

The familiar aura the man gave off reminded Dib of his judgement. He'd sat in the aptly named Bronze Throne, beside the same white-haired man. However, he'd not been judged by anyone he had known at the time.

Tony gave Zim a light poke, making the Irken turn his head to look up at him. The tall human placed his hand on the back of Zim's shoulder and pushed him forward as he began to walk. There was a heavy hesitation in the back of Zim's mind, but he managed to keep any doubts out of his head that would have stalled him from walking beside the human.

As they passed, the gods lowered their heads in waiting. There was a unbroken atmosphere about the room. A heavy, tense feeling that seemed to be weighing heavily on everybody's mind.

Tony Stark, however, seemed to emanate a safe zone. He wore a smile at all times, walking at a gentle pace with a spring in his step. He was known, of course, for never taking serious events seriously. Unless he was in his Iron Man mode. Then everything was serious and there was no time for his esteemed lack of gravity. At this moment, however, he was happy. For Zim's sake, for his own, or because he just wasn't bothered, it was impossible to tell.

Dib still couldn't believe this was happening. That these people held that Zim was at least worthy of a trial. That, through everything he'd told them and knew to be true, he'd still sit upon the Bronze Throne - with his own sister upon the Silver Throne - and be judged by _him. _By Rax Rothschild. The Albino God.

He folded his arms and looked across to Vincent. The dark haired god pinned his gaze, before gesturing to the side wall, against which were multiple chairs. Dib smiled weakly and sat himself down.

Tony brought Zim before the three thrones, before extraordinarily getting down on one knee, his right hand in a fist against his left shoulder and his head down. Zim stared at him with wide-eyed confusion, unsure what to do with himself. A brief moment of hesitation consumed the Golden Court. The surrounding gods gripping the backs of their seats, tense and waiting.

The albino smiled warmly, his violently coloured eyes were somehow soft and endearing. He raised his hand as Tony looked up at him. "You may relax," he said, his voice was somewhere in the lower middle tones. "Take your seats, gods of Elysia." Then he stood and stepped down from the throne, observing Gaz who sat next to him.

She sat cross legged, her hands poised with some dignity over them. She had the hood to her jacket up, and she looked down on the familiar face of Zim. Her lips broke into a small, amiable smile that only served to make Zim uncomfortably aware of how much she had changed.

The Albino God turned his attention to the Irken Invader at the foot of his thrones. "You've caused quite a stir here already, haven't you?" More a statement than a question. "I know that Stark and Age have always been after what the other wants but this? No one has managed to intrigue our esteemed defence distributors this much in quite a while."

Zim forced a smiled. Any words caught in his throat.

"You've already met a few of the gods - Benzaiten, Claire and Vincent. I think Susanoo made very distance acquaintances with you. I'm afraid about that first one, she has a tendency to not be very… divine." He turned away at took his place back on the throne.

In the silence, Benzaiten could be heard laughing to herself. Susanoo - the bog, dark skinned man - told her to be quiet.

"My name is Rax Rothschild. I built this place. Everything you see, I planned and drew up and built. With the help of many, many thousands of engineers," Rax shut his eyes, reminiscing. "I was once a human, living in Heaven doing what I loved. Then I became what you see today. The history lesson can wait. You will hear me called 'His Absolute' often. More often than even I find appropriate. You will hear me called 'His Unending' and 'The All'. The only thing you need to know about me, is that I am the embodiment of the Power of God."

* * *

"So who are you really?" Zim asked. The last thing he remembered was climbing up the podium, sitting next to someone very much extraordinary.

The floor had stared to shake, the walls fell apart and crumbled, falling down around them. The people evaporated, disintegrating before his eyes and yet through all of it, he had been otherworldly calm. Beside him, Rax sat frozen, his eyes gazing forward, his hands gripping the arm of the throne. Next to Rax, Gaz let out a sigh. "How lovely," she had said.

Around them was nothing. In fact, Zim couldn't see them anymore. Just white wherever he looked, and the knowledge that, really, he should have begun to freak out hysterically. He was physical, and so was the space around him, so he walked, trying not to imagine that he'd fall through on the next step.

"I said, who are you really?"

A sharp, continuous hiss like a penny over a metal surface began abruptly. As it did, steps formed, rising up and up, sharply, a pale slope building itself around it. Rings of cloud gathered at the peak, a silver light illuminating their upper sides. Feathers wheeled about in the breeze. Faintly - and ever so faintly - was the sound of harps and violins, and a low, mixed choir, emanating from the peak of what was now apparently a silver mountain.

The voice of Rax let out a low, rumbling quiet laughter. "Come and find out."

Gaz's voice broke out soon after. "Get climbing."

* * *

"Master? Where's my master?"

Benzaiten leaped out of her chair as a robot climbed onto the table. "How the fuck did he get in here! Dib!"

GIR sat himself on the table, reaching over for the leg of roast chicken. "Oh wow! You got waffles? Oh, or bananas! Banana split!" He let out an insane ramble of giggling, stripping the chicken leg clean of meat and chucking it behind him and into the plate of strangely punkish, pale-haired man.

"Ah who cares. Looks like we won't have to sit a listen to Tenji's speeches again," in the man's pale violet eyes was a flame of casualness. His hair was sweeping and fluffy, with a pale tribal tattoo under his right eye the same colour as his iris. He wasn't a god, told by his clothes: a lose, thin white shirt with short sleeves - one cut and hanging off of his other shoulder like Claire's shirt had in the palace - with a dark vest underneath and ragged jeans and what seemed to be unlabeled converses.

Benzaiten scowled and chucked a handful of what appeared to be Mexian style chicken strips and peppers at him. "Can it, Ryujin. I can't believe Vincent let a _dragon _sit at the Golden Court."

Ryujin ducked the food, then shrugged and smirked playfully at her. "Why are you so mean to me, Benny ice cream? You affectionately accept my lovely Toyo into your embrace-" He wasn't quick enough to dodge the flurry of sweet and sour sauce, tomatoes and pieces of duck that were flying his way.

"That was once, you fucking bastard!" Benzaiten screamed, drawing the attention of two dozen other gods.

Susanoo rested his hand on her shoulder, and all of her anger seemed to ebb away. He said in his calm, deep voice; "Now now, Benny, you should know better than to fight at the dinner table." A brief second came by were it seemed the entire two dozen spectators, as well as Ryujin and Benny, seemed to be subdued by the large god's hushing tone.

"I need me some pasta! Get me some pasta!" GIR yelled, jumping over Benny's head and running around the table to find Dib, sitting cautiously on a ridiculously high chair next to Tony, up near Vincent and Claire. He climbed onto Dib's lap, gripping onto his shirt and shaking him violently. "Get me some pas-ta!"

"Here, have the pasta. Hope you get jammed up with ham and cheese sauce," Claire pushed a bowl of pasta of similar description towards GIR, who jumped into the bowl and wolfed the contents down.

Vincent sighed. "That's my favourite kind."

Dib recovered from the trauma, and moved his interest away from poking Chinese styled duck and rice balls with his fork. "So, uh… Vincent, since when did you throw a party for these things. I mean, didn't happen when I got here."

"No, it didn't," he said, mourning over the loss of the ham and cheese sauce pasta. "This feast only became traditional once the arrivals were once every few days, that's only been the last year or so. You were on the cusp of the flow. We introduced these roughly eleven months after you arrived."

Tony leaned across the table. "Yeah, so I didn't get a celebration either. Doesn't matter though, this party sucks. Where's the wine, the women, the cars!"

"I doubt we could get cars up here, Stark," Claire replied, reaching over the table to grab a piece of garlic bread. "And what would we do with a car here anyway? Get all the women to pose on it or something?"

Tony grinned. "Something like that."

Dib sighed, letting Tony and Claire continue their conversation, looking down the length of the table and at the three thrones. He'd never seen a judgement from the outside. Ever since he'd been through it, he'd always wondered. From what he'd gathered, it was different for everybody.

On the outside, the three upon the thrones just appeared to be asleep.

The lady who had juried him was Mizuhame Chi. A happy-go-lucky, energetic goddess of water. She was his first experience of the Secret Service, having been the newest before Dib had joined. She had a code name of Agent Chronicles, although she hardly chronicled anything at all. She had had bright teal blue hair tipped in lime green, with eyes that matched, and strange, somewhat iconic stripes over the bridge of her nose and three dots under each eye.

It was tradition that those who were judged were taught by their juries. Dib and Mizuhame had done just that - she'd taught him how every system worked. Education, money, law, justice and land lording, as well as planning permissions and just about everything else imaginable. Then there had come Dib's final evaluation - determining one's overall value.

It was the darkest side of Ark, that everyone was given worth depending on their personality and their IQ level. Then, they'd be told what career paths they could take, giving them options, but also limiting their skills. There was no passing, no failing, only the narrowing of options - however, it did not stop people becoming superstars. If they were good at sports, they could become athletes, if they could sing, they could become pop stars, if they could write, they could become authors.

Dib's choices were in science and underground politics. Not suited for ties and speeches. He'd been offered a place in the Secret Service.

When Gaz had arrived, he'd not feared too much. She'd been offered careers in programming, beta testing and science. For a year she'd been a beta tester, but had gotten bored, and within a few months was battling it out in the Gamers Championship.

A horrible thought washed over Dib then. Not about jobs - although was intrigued to see what Zim would get in his test in a few months time - or about reconsidering his career choice, but what Gaz was doing by being Zim's jury.

He said it out loud, almost shouting, turning the heads of Vincent, Claire, Ryujin, Benzaiten, Susanoo and a couple of other gods. "Gaz is going to tutor Zim?"

* * *

He'd stopped counting the steps at two thousand five hundred. Partially because it seemed to be slowing him down, and partially because he wasn't sure if he'd been repeating that number for the last five minutes. With every step, the summit seemed two more away. The choir, however, was growing nearer.

He wiped the sweat from his brow and stopped, sitting down on the step. Zim hadn't been expecting something as physically draining as this. A court and a giant room filled with TV's projecting his life was more along the lines of what he'd been preparing for. Then again, this was God. God worked in strange ways. "Okay…this…isn't fun…funny anymore. Just. Just help me, would you?" He stalled, re-thinking that. Help? Zim didn't need help. He was - _was - _an Invader. He'd been trained for hardship - '_You're not a soldier. You've never been a soldier.' _

There was no reply. Not even a sarcastic remark or a threat from Gaz. He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd already fallen asleep or was playing her Game Slave.

Zim picked himself back up and tried to find the strength to keep his numb legs moving. The amount of times he'd stubbed his toes was almost criminal. _'Perhaps I could press charges?'_ It became almost impulsive to grumble to himself, some form of company, even if he was directing it at Rax and Gaz. "What's the point? Climbing… up a bloody… mountain. I…I don't get it. It makes…. No…. sense at all."

He continued like that for some time, eventually he wore himself out, and stopped. "I am Zim. No mountain… no set of… _stairs_… is going to conquer me. Oh no, I am Zim, I am better than some… inanimate objects."

"You grow tired." Rax's voice seemed laced with pity.

Zim ground his teeth. "No! Zim is …not tired! Not even… close."

Gaz's laughter erupted from the following silence.

Zim frowned. Gaz never laughed. She just grunted and shrugged and growled all the time, generally showing her dislike of existence in general.

Rax's voice returned to hush her. He told her to have a little more respect. That her judgement had not began too dissimilar. "You only need to ask for help."

This angered Zim further. "Fool. I don't… care who… who you are! What you are. I…am Z…Zim. I don't…I don't need…_help._" He spat every word, dragging himself up the steps one at a time, trying to break through the barrier of burning pain that always lead to power.

"You are full with too much pride," Rax said grimly. The breeze began to pick up at his words. It grew fierce and wild, howling like dogs, rabid and uncontrolled.

The clouds grew thicker, they moved unnaturally, changing shape and morphing like steam rising from boiling water. Everything began to go grey, the choir began to scream in the most horrendous noise Zim had ever heard. It was worse that the sound of the Dib-human's voice.

A single bolt of lightening lit up the sky, clinging to the clouds reminiscent of a volcanic lightening storm. It was both insufferably beautiful and life threateningly terrifying.

The wind was against him - blowing the storm closer. The climb got worse, with the smell of carbon monoxide and smoke in the air that started to make him choke. Black as the clouds were, that only made the red glow even more striking and the lightening bolts even more awe-inspiring.

Zim had to truly shout to be heard over the rumbling and the howling of the wind. "You're kidding me, right? This mountains… it's a fucking volcano?"

A fountain of red gushed into the sky, and the molten rock ejected from the summit began to fall. The heat was not what worried him, nor being touched by the superheated rock - he was fire proof. As are most Irkens. But he was worried about the flow that crept towards him. Too long in that heat, and he'd burn. He wasn't…

"This is a joke, right?" He shouted to the sky, hoping for a response. "You don't think a lava flow will stop me, Zim? Of all people - of all Irkens."

He didn't stop moving. The challenge was like a drug. It always had been - the thrill of competition, rivalry towards both the living, the dead, and the natural. It was all challenging his pride - his pride was the only thing he considered was left of him, even if it was a desperate pride, born of denial.

The flow grew closer down, flanking the stairs in bright orange and black. Its heat was immense, even from a distance, and his drive faltered just a little. Faults he was known for correcting, and he corrected that moment of fear. There was no way he'd give up.

Zim smiled weakly. "What do you hope to achieve by this? I'll not stop, Rax! You offered me a challenge, and I accepted it, is something wrong with that?" There was uncertainty in his voice. He let out a nervous laugh. He focused on his pride - a painful, fake thing. But he wore it as if it were the truth of him.

The heat grew horribly. The first part of the flow progressed past him, close to him. Then another went by him, slowly as he walked past. It seemed to have a mind of it own as it branched off and merged with the other stream of it. It intensified, growing thicker and wider until behind Zim was an untouchable sea of fire. The space between him and the two flows was decreasing disturbingly.

Pride. He still held onto his pride. A consuming, tattered glimpse of superiority over someone, anything, Zim did not know what.

A bolt curled around the plume of toxic smoke, ash and gobbets of molten rained down. Any vision was soon to be impaired, only aided by the ever gaining glow of lava against the low smoke.

By now, Zim had developed a hacking cough. The heart chamber of Squeedlyspooch was hammering so hard he thought it might explode. His throat was sore with the smog, and his unpleasantries continued as his eyes began to water and sting. The option of turning back was gone, all visibility was near zero, and only the heat of the molten was giving him any guides. His antenna pressed against his skull in fear like a dogs ears laying flat.

Rax had gone silent, and Gaz was probably watching, trying not to burst into mechanical laughter.

Heat rose up his leg and he stopped. He had shut his eyes to stop the stinging. That was when he knew for certain that he was not the master of common sense. The heat grew and grew and, eventually, he didn't try to doubt it. He let out a scream and jumped back, feeling the heat of the flow inches from his heels. His leg was numb again, pulsing and throbbing horribly.

Zim dropped to one knee, cracking open his eyes and, upon assessment, tried to defend the pride that was in shreds inside of him. Assessing the land, the brightness of the glows, but by the heat on his skin he knew he'd made an atrocious error of judgement.

This was not about getting to the top - the summit was still twice as far away as it had when he began. Around him, he could feel only the fires of Hell. Zim knew the choice he had to make, the one thing he had to let go - the only thing he had to left to let go.

In is head, the only thing he could recall was the moments before death. The cold, painful shackles around his wrists and ankles. The snide, humoured sniggering of his Almighty Tallests. And all that chanting. Irkens filled their seats, leaning over and chanting.

"_Ka isst Îm, ka isst vocht!"*_

He remembered those words. Too well. And the Control Brains and their final, decisive decision that meant that the crowds would be appeased, and the Tallests finally freed. It had begun to end, right their, that moment, that second. His PAK ripped off from him, connected to the computers. And he saw it happen.

His life ending, being deleted, destroyed. Obliterated. And one word above all stood out in the chanting. No longer _Îm _- Zim. There was no Z in the Irken alphabet* - but another word. It resulted in a torn pride. Hopes, illusions shattered like glass, and when he fell that day, he cut his hands on them trying to break a fall that could not be broken.

"_Ka isst rik Iinzt-szein, ka isst litz! Ikva-voleritch litz, Iinzt-szein Îm!"*_

Defective. Iinzt-szein. The word that doomed an Irken to a fate worse that death - to be forgotten. Never to be remembered by the next generations. Not even to be laughed at, to be used as a taunt or as a standard for failure. Just… removed.

That moment, that second, he was left nothing, but the tattered remains of stubborn, die-hard pride.

He didn't have much further to fall now. It would be like taking a step… just a single step further. It wouldn't hurt as much as that word did, that fate. Then again, it was only that single tattered pride that kept him from the very bottom of the well.

The heat was too close, too soon. He could feel it lick at his feet, it was going to consume him. And he'd have failed. There was only one thing he knew he could do. Burn the ruins of honour on the flames, and spare him his life.

He looked up, not to the sky but beyond it. Trying to see. "Rax!" The voice that came out was powerful, desperate and hoarse. "Please, please if you're still there… help me."

* * *

**That was perhaps too dramatic, but hey, you know how it is. I was inspired by a rather striking image of a volcanic lightening storm that I now have as my desktop background. **

*** - Okay, I know many IZ fans tend to agree that Irkens would speak in clicks and hisses (but when we watch the Irken scenes I guess we just all have Babel fishes in our ears) or that Irken is English or something like that. I respectfully disagree.**

**You see, humans don't naturally speak the way we do, languages. We're taught that. We'd probably make noises similar to monkeys to be perfectly honest. We growl and shout and communicate via 'primitive speech' all of the time. So, while I think primitive Irkens used to speak in clicks and hisses, they also developed proper, intricate languages spoken similar to ours. So, I pulled this long lost art out of my arsenal and did my head canon of Irken speech.**

**Yes before you ask, I did try to make it sound like hisses and clicks, while retaining a writable romanji form based off of German, Scandinavian and Russian.**

**First line: **_(Kill Zim, kill him!)_

**Second line: **_(Kill the Defective, kill it! Annihilate it, Defective Zim!)_

**(Did you know that Irkens actually don't have Z? Fans added it in I think, but I've heard of a Irken sub done that showed that the last few letters of our alphabet don't exist in Irken. Might be mislead here, but whatever. Led to interesting pronunciations.)**


	6. Living Dead

**Like previously, I treasure reviews, short, long, constructive or not and will return the favour. So please, spare a moment and I'll spare you a moment!**

* * *

"It is terribly dark outside, isn't it Kagutsu?"

A red haired man responded to the question. "It is, m'lady." He eyed the tall leather chair in front of him. While he was used to the computers and the screens that controlled the ship, he was never used to the woman that sat in that chair.

She sighed. "Why does it have to be so dark? Why can't I give the sky a sun anymore, Kagutsu?" The words were pained coming up - she sounded as if she were about to cry.

Kagutsu shifted his weight, feeling the eyes of a maniac burning into his back. He'd never been too fond of the people that were materialized near the ship these days. It gave him a bad feeling, made him on edge.

"The world is dying. I'm… I'm afraid that it might already be dead."

An unnerving silence followed. At times like these, Kagutsu wished nothing more than to be what he was; god of fire, steward to his superior. Nothing more, nothing less. Not her therapist or her doll that she would talk to for hours upon end. But the sun needed a flame. Even if they mean't getting burnt.

"How…very unfortunate," she said quietly. "This was not the world I wanted to come back to, Kagutsu. My son on the throne, my authority rendered. How many gods are powerless?"

Kagutsu didn't know, but from the nature of the damage the end had caused - he was luckily one whose authority still existed - he could make a logical conclusion. "A great few, m'lady. Even Raiden cannot cheat into using electricity instead of lightening."

"Are they not the same thing?"

"No, they are not," the voice was Raiden's, as he strode into the room. He was tall, skinny and pale, with long, silken black hair with red blossoms decorating it. Two horns protruded out from the side of his head in a shallow wave shape, with two pointed ears on both sides of his head, two smaller than the others. His attire was a long black robe made of furs, with the feathers of ravens and crows making up the massive collar. "Even if they are. I cannot use what does not come down from the sky by the forces of nature." He gave Kagutsu a sideways glance - his iris' black as his hair.

The woman rose from her chair. "I'm guessing that means my son is…?"

"Also powerless. There are no celestial bodies under his jurisdiction anymore," Raiden spoke quickly, sharply, his voice groaned like an old door. He had an air of pompous pride about him.

The woman walked over to a large touch screen. With an single finger she drew half the symbol of karma. The screen glowed and did nothing. As she walked, her heels gave a crack as they connected with the glass floor. She was, without a doubt, a monster in size. Sleekly built with strong, muscled legs, her skin as pale as snow and her hair was even lighter in colour, braided on one side. Her eyes gave no hint of an iris nor whites, just completely pupil, like black diamonds.

He dress was long and white, a slit in the design going up one leg. Even without her heels she stood at seven foot eight inches tall.

"My Lady, I'm here to discuss your relationship with some of the… passengers," Raiden proclaimed, looking around him to the narrowed, dark eyes of one of them.

Amaterasu turned, her dark eyes burning. "I do what I please. I would not think twice if you did the same."

Raiden broke her gaze and kneeled, his hands pressed into the floor. "Many of us worry about your safety, My Lady. It's not that we find it wrong to have relations to the passengers, it's which ones that causes the problem."

Amaterasu laughed and gave him a wave of dismissal. She spun her chair around to face them and fell back into it, still giggling away to herself. Her eyes narrowed and she began to spin. "I can have a little fun."

Raiden growled. "He's a homicidal maniac, I did my research, it won't be long before he tries to kill you."

"Oh he already has," she said casually, continuing despite the sudden atmosphere. "You know what I did in the Nexus, Raiden. You know what I did. Who I killed again, and whose soul I ate, and how many more I did too. It resulted something quite extraordinary. Shall I show you?" She bolted up right, striding over to the man by the door with eager confidence.

Amaterasu grabbed him by the throat and smashed him against the wall, ripping his jacked open and shifting through the inside pockets, pulling out a kitchen knife. For brief moment she calmed, stroking the man's hair and kissing him softly, apologizing. She whispered something to him and then let him go, watching him fall.

She stood back up and smiled. "As I said. It resulted in this." She plunged the knife into her heart. Blood oozed out, bright and scarlet that swam contrasted and bold against her dress. But she stood as if she felt neither pain nor fear of death. With both hands she grabbed the knife and twisted it in her chest, letting her audience flinch and hold back any nausea in shock.

She pulled the knife out and threw it to the floor. Her wound healed and she gave a wide, insane grin.

Kagutsu had known about this. But it never stopped him feeling weak-kneed and unreal when she demonstrated it. It was his turn to give Raiden a sideways glance.

"I am invincible. Immortal, and l cannot be destroyed ever again!" She threw her head back and began to laugh.

* * *

**Yes, this chapter was always planned to be really short, like an interlude introducing you to a small portion of the antagonists to a small extent. It's so... puny against all the other chapters.**

**It's also funny how, before some extra interest was shown in this story that I'd actually planned to end it here. So, thank you to you guys who made me continue this. I mean, there was a speech here written on it's ending or something like that XD**

**I'd like to thank Kazehana for being my number one reviewer, and to Uva for joining in. (ZiMSlays, Hyper, where have you gone? D:)**

**Also, look what I did cause I was bored! This is a lovely 3/4 finished... thing. It's nothing too special, just presents some pre-existing anime and manga characters to depict the OC's, even if they aren't 100% accurate. **

** . **


	7. Three

**Please guys, reviews are really treasured, and I will review one of your stories in return because it's only fair. It really helps me write quicker and makes me happy! Please, feel free to ask questions, answer them, predict or anything else - tell me what you liked, didn't like, I care about these things.**

* * *

Between the fires on the mountain and the stream through the forest, there was a hole. Time had passed but it was like the space of sleep. It had felt like forever, but instant all at once. Dark, quiet and slowly maddening. Coming out the other end of the abyss of the dead time had been both accompanied by terror and admiration. For a brief, fleeting second he believed he'd been thrown back out into the flaming mountain to burn.

Zim stood in a forest; lush and thick and green. Trees huddles together, tall and short, roots protruding from the ground, shrubs alive with vibrant red and purples and blues and whites of blossoming flowers.

He glanced cautiously at a small stream a couple of feet away. It twisted like a snake, getting wider into a tiny pool further upstream, but still in view. It was fed by a miniature waterfall, probably no more than a foots fall where the land rose and it made it's origin in a spring under the ground.

Zim had bad relations with water - he didn't exactly trust the substance. However it seemed to attract small groups of butterflies and dragonflies that hovered and darted and fluttered. Apparently oblivious or unafraid of a tiny green alien suddenly among them.

The silence was golden - no cars, no machines or voices. Zim was brought into a trance by the very sounds around him - birds, the trickle of water, the buzzing of the wings of insects. Never had he imagined that such things could subdue him. He figured it was something to do with the cool air on his skin soothing away the memory of the heat from his previous encounter.

His trance was broken by the snap of a twig - he looked around to see Rax sitting on a moss covered log, mushrooms sprouting at his feet and a thicket of small, white-barked trees and white flowered shrubs behind him.

Zim sighed and looked away again. "You are the real Rax, right?"

The albino let a short and gleeful laugh escape him. He watched Zim with calm but cautious eyes. There was much he was still concerned with. "I assure you, I am the real Rax." He ran a finger across the smooth metal of all four of the cuffs on his left ear - his right was symmetrical to it.

"What now? Will the whole forest start burning? Will the water swell or a bear lunge out of the woods," Zim said, sardonically. He turned to face Rax. "Or are you actually lying to me and are a devil in disguise?"

Rax did not reply. For the host of a power matching God, he didn't look like what Zim'd seen from human depictions - and those were rare enough. He wore a simple grey t-shirt underneath a complex black and sangria red parker with an inner red collar and a hood lined in white fur. It had two breast pouch pockets and two simple jacket pockets around abdomen height. The parka was short sleeved, the dark colour of the black contrasting with his pale skin. His jeans were a dark grey with patches of faded brown, a leather strap up around his left and right thigh and right calf. A pair of leather red gloves were adorned on his hands, lowly cut with a button fastening. His shoes were simple trainers.

He had four piercing on both ears - although only one ear was always visible, due to one side being closer cut than the other, with a fringe that passed just above his left eyebrow - and a layer of bandages around his throat. Zim hadn't even noticed Rax's bottom framed glasses until he pushed them up his nose.

Zim was still not wholly accustomed to the way this world worked. He sighed and shifted his weight. "Zim asked you a question. I expect an answer."

Rax shuffled along the log and patted it. "Sit with me. I want to talk with you, is all."

"And you only wanted me to climb a volcano," Zim replied, but sat next to Rax anyway, keeping a fair distance between them.

"It's okay that you don't trust me. Not many do at this point." Rax's voice was softer now.

Zim spoke without looking at him. "Were's Gaz? She's supposed to be…what… my jury?" Zim took another quick glance around the forest to check for the purple-glad girl - young woman now. "Why do humans employ such tedious methods of justice?"

"Justice? This is nothing to do with punishing you," Rax said. "It's to determine if you _deserve _to be punished. It is the Courts code of conduct. And Gaz is listening and watching. She just isn't too keen on getting her heels stuck in mud."

Zim frowned. "Since when did the Gaz-human wear heels? Surely she is much too…above such matters."

"She grew up, Zim. That's what humans do. They change as they learn and find new interests, new ways of thinking." Rax leaned forward and shut his eyes, a smile coming to his porcelain coloured face. "I've no doubt she could still terrify the living daylights out of the majority of the population. She just does it while being fashionable I guess."

"What are we going to do, Rax? Sit here and talk for the rest of the eon." He was preceded by silence.

Rax stood and went over to the stream, cupping his hands in the cold water and bringing them out again. He did not spill a single drop as he headed back towards Zim. "You consider water a weakness of yours, don't you?"

"Yes." Zim paused. "Humans do not seem to be able to keep their waters clean. Filthy monkeys don't even understand how to look after their own planet."

The albino let the water trickle through his hands and onto the forest floor. He went back to the stream and crouched next to it. "But you're fire proof… have you ever been in contact with clean water in your life?"

Zim cocked his head to once side. "I wouldn't know. Was Earth's water clean?"

Rax dipping his fingers into the water - it was freezing cold and clear as diamonds. He didn't move, letting the cold of the stream bite into his fingers and hands. When he did pull his hands out, they were a strange orange colour, but immediately began to return to normal. "No. Definitely not. Was yours?"

Zim remained silent.

"Ah, okay. I expected as much from an advanced race," Rax stood up, bracing his hands on his thighs.

"Why are we here? Is this another illusion?" Zim asked after an extended period of silence.

Rax smiled. "We're here in one of Ark's many biomes, and we're here to talk. Or, more specifically, you're here to ask me questions. You passed the first test." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and crossed over the stream with a wide stride, and disappeared into the thick forest.

Zim guessed that he'd be back, and stayed put on the log, listening as Rax's footsteps drew ever further away. _I'm supposed to be asking you questions? _Zim thought. _I can't do than when you're… wandering off._

A minute or so later, the footsteps returned - a faster, pacing rhythm - and Rax immerged again from the trees. He frowned and braced his hands on two trees as he leaned forward. Two pairs of red eyes met and stared, neither of them said a word, waiting for the other.

A monarch butterfly passed in front of Zim's face. "Why'd you walk off?"

"You were supposed to follow me," Rax replied hastily. "Now get up and come with me." He seemed to dive back into the forest without staying to wait for Zim.

The Irken slid down from the log and proceeded towards the waterline. He pulled a rock out of the ground after having to claw at the dirt that cemented it down, cursing at the amount of filth on his gloves. It was a medium sized thing, and he hurled it into the stream, jumping back away from the spray. Once he was satisfied that he would not get wet, Zim made two small jumps to the other side.

Rax was waiting behind one of the trees, his eyebrow raised. "A bit extreme."

Zim gave Rax a sharp glare. "It was water," he said, and let Rax lead him forward - further into the forest or out of it, he wasn't really sure.

* * *

"Jeez, how long are they going to be," Dib said as he finished his second bowl of chicken noodles - GIR currently halfway down the table in search for more pasta and bacon.

Tony shrugged and poured himself another glass of champagne. "Patience is a virtue, which I do not possess. This food, however, is in itself a virtue."

From across the table, Benzaiten let out a single laugh, slamming her fist on the table, which bent the bottom of the fork in her hand. She pointed it at him as if it were a trident and began to rock back and forth. "And it's…it's the last time… you'll _ever _get it!" She stuck her tongue out at him and snatched a bowl of Tai green curry from Ryujin's hands.

"I don't know why they let you drink, Benny. You get wasted faster than Dib does," he gave Dib a smirk. "And he doesn't even drink often."

Benzaiten was flushed red with the alcohol. "And I _like…_getting drunk, thank you…_Stark._"

"Okay, Princess, but I'm not going to carry you home."

Benzaiten gave a childish pout, and began scooping great heaps of curry onto her plate; Susanoo snatched it away from her before she overfilled her plate.

Dib looked across the table to Vincent and Claire, who looked content enough. The blonde goddess was doing well to keep her hair out of her food and the food off of her silk dress. He glanced to his watch, which read 14:05 pm. It couldn't be much longer now - unless Zim was being uncooperative and refused to speak. The thought gave him extra confidence that Zim would not pass his trial. He trusted Gaz to make the right judgement and not land herself as Zim's tutor.

Vincent caught his eyes. The two stared at each other for a good while, until Vincent stood and gestured to Dib to follow him - not too closely.

Dib trailed Vincent to the back of the room, and into a hallway leading to a beamer which was connected to the control room, some hundred miles above them. Dib looked around him to make sure no one was watching before he slipped into the corridor and leaned against the wall opposite a now normal sized Vincent Szark.

The god pulled a thin piece of Perspex out from the inside pocket of his jacket - it was roughly the same dimension as a piece of A5 paper. He made a half oval shape with his finger on the Perspex before handing it to Dib.

It was a portable information drive. One big touch screen.

The device lit up around the edges, before a name appeared on the screen in capitals. 'EZEKIEL'.

Dib looked up at Vincent. This was about business. He got himself into Secret Servicemen mode, pressing a button on his watch that would distort his voice in any recording. "Is this a new assignment, Leading Star?" It didn't take him long to get into the mood, remembering to use codenames when talking about Service business.

Unlike the others, Vincent was known to all agents, even though some agents were unknown to others. He had a name that made it obvious he was leading the team - assigning them - but not that made it obvious who he was. Leading Star.

"It sure is, Ezekiel. One three two ten five." Vincent tapped his fingers twice. Times two.

Dib wrote the numbers is sequence, repeating them in his head eight times so he would not forget it. Two six four twenty ten.

The screen turned into an interface, with three icons down the right side and a word across the bottom that made Dib frown and raise his gaze to look questioningly at Vincent.

"I'm afraid so, Ezekiel. TRADITORE. I want you to find out who it is that's been selling our information to Sultan. Mikaboshi has no doubt already infiltrated Ark."

Dib sighed nervously. "Have you got anybody working on that?"

Vincent nodded. "VIOLAZIONE belongs to Malachi, Three Song and Isaiah," Vincent looked towards the table from the shadows and then back at Dib. "You will be accompanied by Chronicle and Esdras. Ruth, Kings and Esther's got RAPPRESAGLIA. You start tomorrow. Converse with your team mates and go through the data on the info drive. This is serious, and I need results. Eight two seven two minus four." He tapped his fingers four times.

Dib saluted as Vincent walked away, joining the feast once more as a number of waiters came out with desserts. He wondered if he could handle this job, and began to walk out of the corridor when his phone rang - or buzzed rather. He pulled it out of his pocket and slide the info drive into it. Dib answered the call.

"Leviticus? What are you calling me for?" Dib lowered his voice and backed into the shadows.

"Leading Star told you? No, don't answer that. I know he has," his voice was rushed and quiet. "I can help you with leads, Ezekiel. Leading Star told me that I wasn't to get involved with TRADITORE, VIOLAZIONE or RAPPRESAGLIA. No, I'm on all of your teams, and there's something we need to talk about."

When the talk was over, Dib strode out of the corridor, laying a suspicious eye over the entire room. Everyone was suspect as he ran those words over in his head.

TRADITORE. Traitor.

VIOLAZIONE. Breach.

RAPPRESAGLIA. Retaliation.

* * *

Rax had led him to an opening; wide and green and open. Wild flowers bloomed in hundreds of different shades of colours; reds and yellows, blues, purples and whites and different grasses hued green. The trees had thinned as they had approached, showing a clear blue sky above them.

Zim had seen a stag back in the forest, with its massive white horns and fawn coloured fur. It seemed to glare at him, unafraid and suspicious. It had eventually turned and galloped off into the woods.

Rax led him further out into the opening, before seating himself of a rock that jutted out of the ground. He looked comfortable enough, and gestured to Zim to sit bellow him, on the ground.

Zim did so without complaining. "So, I'm supposed to ask you questions?"

Rax nodded and leaned back. "Anything you can think of."

"Okay answer me this - what is Ark? You said you built it - is it some kind of dome on an inhospitable planet?" Zim tilted his head to one side and watched Rax closely. The god smiled and let his head roll back on his shoulders.

He laughed. "Ark… my greatest creation. Ark is a ship - a massive vessel travelling through dead space and time. What is within it - Vita and the surrounding landscapes - is all that is left on a colossal island system. Elysia. Heaven." Rax paused, but only to think. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Ark is the home of those who are human - who can be saved. Not in a Biblical sense. I am not Yahweh, I do not require worship. But I judge the arrivals, make sure they get the best start they can. I am also a figure head for Ark. People revere me, although my powers are limited."

Zim frowned. "You're the embodiment of the Power of God."

"You misunderstand. I'll explain godhood to you," he spoke with a hearty tone, but underneath it Zim could sense an odd, out of place sadness. "Gods function by the Rule of Mass. The more mass you have, the more power you can conduct - the more power you can produce. When gods use their powers they grow to their full size. Being fat does not help, but muscle does, and so does height. Being at their full height does two things," Rax lifted a hand and listed off the points with his fingers. "One, it allows them to conduct power at maximum capacity, so when they use their authority - their area of power - they are able to do more. Two, it acts as a warning to other gods who may challenge them. The bigger the god, the stronger their authority."

"Okay, and?" Zim interjected, not sure where this was going.

"I cannot enter my god form. The one time I did, it was unintentional," Rax shrugged and shut his eyes for a brief second. "However, my god form was… immense. Ultimate power needs a lot of mass to be conducted through."

Zim nodded and crossed his arms. For a couple of seconds he thought, organising the questions in his head and setting them out in relevance and usefulness. When he'd got it he looked up at Rax and sighed. "How did I get here? Not just me, though… but the Dib-human, Tony and West. They're not from here."

Rax smiled and laughed. He liked the question. "That's a tale and a half," he whispered to himself. "The only time I entered my god form was under pressure of extermination by a behemoth representing extremist religion - out of the three we were placed under attack by at Elysia, this one could not be destroyed. It managed to follow Ark into space. It was going to devastate Ark, and it forced me into my god form. I fought with it until I managed to access my powers - to create all, know all, destroy all. Needless to say the unstoppable forces collided and I won. The force of the final blow caused a ripple throughout the fabric of existence. Every other universe collapsed; parallel, multiverse, extension. All of it gathered in one place, the shining light we call the Nexus, probably the only energy source left in the universe. It ejects souls - collections of memories - frequently. Some of them die in the vacuum of space to return to the Nexus. Some arrive here, or on Sultan. The Nexus itself contains all of existence. Only this universe remains intact, and it is dying quickly. That all happened eight years ago."

Zim blinked - that was quite a tale. It sounded like it belonged in a fable, or a space opera novel. To know all of that had happened less than a decade ago made it seem so personal, so close. It frightened him a bit. "Okay, this one's been plaguing me," Zim started.

Rax smirked. "Your last question!" He proclaimed. "After this one, you'll have to ask elsewhere. And not everything is public knowledge - I'll tell you anything here, but not out there."

The Irken stared, taken aback by Rax. One more questions… he had many. Where any other Irkens on Ark? How long had Dib and Gaz been here? Was GIR here? What was Sultan? What kind of people were there?

After a long while deliberating, he finally sighed and pressed his fingers into his forehead. "What was the volcano about?"

Rax leaned forward. "You tell me. How did you feel when I saved you?"

Zim shook his head and bit his lip. "Empty."

"You gave up your pride, Zim. You're a murderer, a liar and a coward among everything - but that's not really you." - That made Zim look up sharply, both in anger and in confusion - "Your pride was a vicious thing, eating away at you like a parasite. Out of everything that made you, that unassailable pride, while torn an tattered by the moments before your death, was your only and greatest sin." Rax stood up and began to walk away. Then he stopped and turned back. "It was all symbolic. The mountain was the Irken hierarchy, the thunder the anger and hatred towards you by your own race, and the fire was your destructive nature - the false nature you are."

The world went blinding and white, the trees and sky disintegrating once again, a rumbling grew louder and louder, and then he was back.

He opened his eyes to a crowd of gods feasting who stood and clapped, and two humans - one raising a glass of champagne, another looking haunted.

Gaz stepped down from her seat and stood before Rax. She was proud and bright in her clothes, both beautiful and powerful. A glance was thrown in Zim's direction and then she went back to Rax. "He is not who he is. I guess under the code that means he's innocent, although to be monitored daily until we can find a way to remove the false nature. Then, we're here again. Isn't that fun?"

Zim was too busy thinking to react. The false nature you are. He had a hard time grasping what that meant, and knew he couldn't ask Rax, he'd refuse. But he would not ask Gaz, since she'd likely lie to him - that and she was still terrifying. Dib would lie to him too.

Tony strode up to the thrones and shook Rax's hand and clapped Gaz on the shoulder, before she looked at him with a harsh, fiery stare. He stepped away and let her go. Dib intersected her and was obviously beginning to argue with her.

"Heya, boss," Tony said with a smile to Rax. "You mind if I take the bean sprout to the tower? I got something in mind for him." Tony looked at Zim and smiled. For some reason, Zim smiled back.

* * *

**Phew, took me a while to get this one up, eh? I've been supporting the home team for the Olympics (Go team GB!) and being very patriotic, since it's not every day the Games come to your home country, is it?**

**This chapter was a nightmare to write; If you noticed I got three sub plots started at once \o3o/**

**Anyway, I was wondering yesterday while I was in pain and hindered from writing what song could act as the 'theme' for this story... and anyone who watched the Pandemonium section of the London 2012 Olympics Artistic Opening Ceremony would have heard it; And I Will Kiss by Underworld feat Dame Evelyn Glennie (she's deaf!). Seriously, it fits with this story really well - the atmosphere, the scale of the plot, the characters - and it's a beautiful piece. Look it up. It's seventeen minutes long but it's a wonderful piece of music.**

**Thank you to the people who review this story! You keep me going ^-^ (Remember to look up that song dammit .)**


	8. Spinning a Web

******Reviews are treasured, guys! Don't care how long, negative, positive, just be constructive if you can. I'll make sure to repay the favour.**

* * *

"Okay, Zim, you look awfully confused," Tony said after a couple of minutes silence. "What's going through that head of yours." Tony led Zim out to the front of the palace, where a car was waiting for them.

At first, Zim had been fearful; he'd be reunited with GIR, and the strange little robot had just offered him some pasta, then a hug. It was one thing Zim had never expected that made him loath Dib even more .GIR had stood beside the big headed boy, waving like a maniac as he left the room with Tony. He stayed with Dib. As if Dib was his master, not Zim.

Zim would never admit it to the tiny robot, but he needed him right now. That crazy, malfunctioning SIR unit was the only thing he had left of his old life. For now he wasn't prepared to let go entirely. It had made him angry when GIR had proudly proclaimed that he wanted to go home and raid Dib's fridge - GIR was only allowed to raid Zim's fridge, not Dib's or anybody else's. GIR was his. GIR ruined Zim's plans, GIR brought pigs into Zim's base and into Zim's laboratory. Not Dib's.

Zim looked around and took note of the strawberry blonde that stood next to the car. "I don't get it."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Get what?"

"Everything!" Zim ground his teeth together in frustration. "Why is the Dib-human here, how'd he get so tall! Why GIR's with him and not me. This talk of multiverses and 'gods' and… Zim finds this so confusing."

Beside him, Tony laughed, getting into the drivers seat. He grabbed the blonde's arm gently and smiled at her. "You wouldn't mind getting in the back, would you Pepper?"

She paused and tapped her fingers on the clipboard she held. "Not at all," she said smugly, opening the back door and sliding in.

Zim clambered on in, letting the door shut automatically behind him. He sat, seething, in his seat, arms crossed and his face in a deep frown. When the car's engine started, the growl made him open his eyes, slightly surprised. Then he went back to frowning and thinking so hard it gave Tony and headache just looking at him.

"Go on then," Tony said as they pulled away. "Ask. You've got questions."

Pepper leaned forward. "I really don't think-"

"Shush, Pepper. Trying to do the kid a favour, looks like his head's going to explode in a minute. I know mine might…" he smirked at her and watched her sit back in defeat.

Zim ignored him mostly and organized his thoughts. "Let's start simple so your puny human brain can wake up; is this my home universe?"

Tony laughed. "Probably not. You… died in a blackout?"

"If you mean 'the whole world went black suddenly' then yes, stupid human," Zim said with an irritated sigh.

"Then the answer is no," Tony said, a little too happily. "Actually, you'll find the only people who originated in this universe will generally wear a white scarf around their necks - they consider themselves Elysians. Must get awful during the summer months."

There was a casual tone to Tony that had begun to grate on Zim; it hadn't before, in fact he'd rather liked it. Made him a lot more tolerable than some of the other people… but now it just started irritating him. "Could you just answer my questions simply, human?"

That tone took Tony by surprise. He looked at Zim curiously, wondering what had gone wrong. Neither the less, he nodded to Zim's strangely harsh request.

"Good. Now, earth-monkey, tell me what the Dib and his… creepy sister have been up to."

There was a pause from Tony, restraining himself. "Gaz makes a living playing video game -believe it or not. And Dib? Well, he works with me and has a second job. I don't know what that is, though." He paused. When Zim remained silent - obviously not satisfied - Tony let out an exasperated sigh. "They just… lived, Zim. Dib got over his rivalry with you until you showed up again and Gaz didn't give two shits. They ate food, went out, earned money blah blah blah nice normal happy life for five years. That's all."

Zim was taken aback by Tony's quickly hostile tone, but kept a straight face. "And now?"

"Fuck if I know, Zim. Dib's probably seething over your conditional innocence and Gaz? Apart from tutoring you, I doubt she gives a rat's ass about you. She'll jury you the next time around once we fix you up and then I've no doubt she'll walk out of your life, dragging Dib with her and you'll never see them again." There was a harsh silence after that.

During that silence, Zim tried to contemplate a life without the two siblings; if they walked out now, that meant GIR would probably go with them.

"I have another question," Zim said finally, slightly more hesitant this time.

"Sure, what is it?" Tony'd gone back to normal.

Zim fought off the feeling of false consideration behind Tony's words. "These… 'gods'… did their reach extend into other universes such as my own? Would I have found myself here if I'd died some other way."

Tony shook his head. "No. They resided here. I doubt this was the only universe with gods in it though. We've got another god - wait. Simple answers."

Zim blinked. "No, no, that sounds… interesting. Continue, Zim wishes to know!"

The man beside him gave out a confused laugh; like he didn't know whether to be happy or annoyed. "There are a few; the one I was going to refer to is Yeine. She's a very powerful woman but she's rarely ever physical. They say that making love to her will destroy a mortal…" Tony smiled a boyish smile to himself - behind him, Pepper rolled her eyes, then leaned forward to whack him on the shoulder. "Okay, okay, Pep. Shesh. Anyway, she's one of three or so she says. She is closer to Rax in power than anyone else. I don't know the details since she's, well… never around." Tony looked back at Pepper and muttered a half-hearted apology.

For the rest of the journey, Zim sat in silence. It was getting harder and harder to fend off the emptiness that was beginning to gather; he'd remembered feeling something similar when Dib had stopped chasing him for those few days. But this was also significantly different. This wasn't about Dib or even GIR.  
He needed to unplug his PAK and wire it into a power source - he needed to re-charge it, and then replay his last moments.

* * *

Leviticus had phoned back as soon as he'd left the tower, so he let Gaz drive them back to the apartment. She had - apparently - arrived by beaming, but how the car got here was another matter all together. Dib reminded himself that Gaz was Gaz, and that she seemed to be able to pull off all manners of hocus pocus even at this age.

Dib had been relieved when Leviticus had phoned back up; he needed to understand their conversation from earlier. "So you're saying that… the traitor has to be an agent? I don't quite follow you."

Leviticus let out a frustrated growl. "Don't you get it? Unless there are actually two traitors or someone with their little spiders crawling all over us then we have to assume that the only traitor is an agent - we're the only ones with information like that."

Dib let his worry build back up as he recalled what Leviticus had told him - the information that was loose was about weapons. Big ones. Stark tech and Infinity - aka Ultimate Age's corp. The info had been about Court: Rax's lack of power and the Infinity Door, a wonderful invention that detected all Sultan and unauthorized entries to Ark. "Unless it's someone from the Ministry? I can think of a few."

"But can you think of any reasons? I know you and Claire don't get on like butterflies and daisies but she has every alibi to not be a traitor; if Sultan get here and somehow take control, they'd kill her." Leviticus pointed out abruptly, leading to a prolonged silence.

Without hanging up, the two stopped to think. They did it often - raking up a call bill quickly for every minute of silence that happened between them. It didn't bother Dib. A whole day of a blank call would only ever seem like ten crowns in comparison to his wage.

"So… you got any leads on which one of us it could be?" Dib said bleakly. "For all I know it could be you."

Leviticus laughed. "For all I know, it could also be you. But I don't think you would. You're a loyal person; loyal to your country and loyal to your family… sort of."

Dib sat himself down on one of the stools near the kitchen counter. He hadn't been home for long, and was glad that Gaz had decided to stay over a friends; when Dib had learned she had a social life, he almost fainted in disbelief.

GIR was on the sofa, watching a film - he didn't know what film it was, but GIR was screaming every now and again in glee or in horror.

"I couldn't name a single agent I believe capable of treachery."

"Well, I could. The one and only Malachi," Leviticus said with a bitter tone, as if he'd taken a bite out of a sour lemon.

"He got a piranha in his soup!"

Dib frowned and spun slowly on his stool. "Who is Malachi anyway?"

"Malachi is perhaps the one and only reason Ark exists."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Dib asked.

Leviticus sighed. "Not really. Ark is but a spec of Elysia and Elysian technology; A whole world, a massive collection of physics defying islands nestled somewhere at the ends of this universe," his voice seemed to slowly drift off as if he were slipping into a trance. "A beautiful, diverse place. It's all gone now. Because of Malachi."

"No! No, look behind you look - aww, he's dead. Oh well."

Dib pressed his hand to his forehead and groaned. "Tell me who Malachi is and we can look into it."

"That's for you and your team - your job, not mine," Leviticus said sharply. "But his bite is ferocious." Then he hung up and left Dib to ponder, relentlessly, on that last hint.

Dib had wanted to say 'But it is your job! You're supposed to be helping all of us, as if you were part of our team' but Leviticus had spoken too fast, too assertive, and then cut the call as if he had been expecting Dib to retaliate. Now all he could do was go to his room, and he did. He left GIR to his film, knowing that tomorrow, there'd be a big mess of cheese, popcorn and soda to clean up.

"I'm gonna watch it again!"

At the furthest end of the inner wall of the main living area was a door leading into a corridor. Probably wide enough for two people to walk abreast. There were no windows, just three lights aligned with three doors. The first door lead to Gaz's room, the middle was empty and the farthest one along was Dib's; he saw it necessary to put as much room between him and his younger sister as possible. He knew how much he pissed her off, and how much she scared him.

He opened his door with a thumb print.

The room was simple and clean; light blue walls and a grey-blue carpet. There was a metal desk adorned with a light, a laptop and as many devices as possible; files, notes, pitch recognition, portable beamers, earpieces and the sort. There was a single draw in the desk; within it was a laser pistol and three twelve round magazines not including the one already locked and loaded.

The bed was a nice double size, memory foam mattress and pillows with a deep blue duvet and grey pillow covers. A copious amounts of shelves and bookcases lined the wall, each filled with more and more science fiction and crime novels and paranormal study books. He had adorned any left over space with a white board, Blackpanel (TV), a locked cupboard for his numerous glasses and posters from conventions.

He opened his laptop and swapped his normal, every-day glasses for a more specialized pair in a case to the side of his laptop. Once he'd logged in and loaded the correct files, Dib opened up the Agents files and began to piece together the identity of Malachi.

* * *

"Do you have any idea what you're doing, My Lady," Kagutsu said timidly, bowing to Amaterasu, although she had turned away.

She was leaned over the controls, pressing her fingers to symbols and making shapes with them; files opened and closed as she took them all in, understanding the strange dialect they were written in. It was unlike anything Kagutsu had seen before.

With two fingers Amaterasu made the shape of a cross, the two fingers just out of synch. "I have every idea, Kagutsu, lordling," she said gently, running her hand across the braided side of her hair, and then across the other side behind her ear that was cut so sort it looked shaved. Her remaining, full length hair - of which there was a lot - was a loose, messy braid tied with flowing red ribbons of silk. "Giving away false information for truth is easier than expected."

"How do you know he's telling us the truth?" Kagutsu dared to say.

Amaterasu turned. She was wearing loose trousers made of white silk, tight around the ankles and low at the hips, lined with red fur. With it was a loose strapless shirt - also white - that revealed her smooth, flat belly as pale as marble. A long, heavy silk cloak was draped around her shoulders in a brilliant scarlet red and white underneath. She walked shoeless with anklets of silver and ruby chain, with her nails painted the same shade of red.

She rested her hands on her hips and smiled a wicked, sharp-toothed grin. "I have my ways, Kagutsu, lordling. Like I have my ways of not dying or knowing where you are at any given time."

Kagutsu swallowed nervously.

"How was my dear sweetling of a niece to you?" Amaterasu said flatly. "Does she know what you like? I heard she gives… quite a ride." Her eyes were hot; the blackness seemed no longer the colours of her eyes but a void, a space that threatened to swallow him whole.

Kagutsu stood with his mouth poised to speak but he was shocked by the manner at which Amaterasu confronted him. She was a blunt, wild creature. "She is… talented, My Lady," he said shyly, feeling a blush come over his face.

Amaterasu seemed satisfied with the answer and turned back to the consol. "I hear that the bombs are being prepared and the Nexus will be wired up soon?"

Kagutsu nodded affirmatively. "They are primed and ready to be fired whenever you see fit, My Lady. Once we're wired into the Nexus, we can pull them back out as you please." He went silence and paused. "Would you also like us to pull souls out at your leisure, My Lady?"

Amaterasu froze and then her body slacked. She was sinking into it again. That feeling. She let out a low, haunting chuckle. "Oh Kagutsu… dear, sweet Kagutsu. You do not… comprehend what it means…what it feels like to be a soul eater." She turned, and her eyes were no longer a threatening void; they were full of fervent passion and hunger. "No, no no no… simply… the soul is not nearly the sole reason. My sweetling…the hunt. The feeling of…ripping their hearts out through their chests after punching it through their backs. The feeling of torn flesh across your own skin is…beautiful." She let out a dreamy sigh. Another giggle. "Feeling it beat in your hands and against your teeth and tongue…the warmth is…perfection. Watching them writhe and scream. The pain they release. No, the hunt and the kill - the soul itself is just a drug. Only the gods' souls provide power. Let me tell you this," she moved close to Kagutsu, her tone hissing and blissful. Her face merely inches from his. He'd expected her breath to smell of rotten flesh from this talk of eating hearts; but it was clean like winters air.

"The bigger the soul the more…convincing a soul needs - a soul is independent from the person. It needs to be clawed out with pain. That…the inflicting upon a helpless body is where the joy lies, sweet Kagutsu. If I want a soul, I will get it myself. I'll redden my hands with sweet blood and entrails to get it. Bite into hearts while they're still beating…have you ever tried eating through a person's stomach? It is most…therapeutic." She moved away from him, twisting quickly and laughing again - relishing the memories. "It is an art, my sweet Kagutsu. It is a dance of claws and teeth against flesh… drawing out a soul is the most accomplishing feeling one can ever have."

Kagutsu tried not to swallow, fearing the taste of raw, warm flesh on his tongue. When she was like this, she was at her most deadly; he clenched all of his muscles to stop himself from shaking, and to stop himself from running. She was a junkie. Although she would never admit it, she was addicted to souls like heroin or crack. The bigger the soul, the better.

Amaterasu closed her jet black eyes and smiled - it was a mad smile. A simple, spine-chilling smile of a million screaming souls and a million dead people and gods. "But do you know, sweetling, that this world was not my hunting ground. Oh no, never, Kagutsu. I slaughtered gods for their power, but they were not big souled," her voice was barely a step above a whisper. "I jumped to other dimensions to hunt…more valuable species. With bigger souls - trapped souls - which always made it more…pleasurable. The energy spent to get those souls. The long, treacherous puzzle of bringing it out - making sure to not let it wither and die." She stopped abruptly and looked at Kagutsu with a strong, forceful gaze.

He bowed low to her, his heart was hammering in his chest as he felt her eyes fall upon him. Perhaps it was best if he were to pardon himself; but no one pardoned themselves before the Lady of the Day. The Great Deity That Shines in The Heavens.

She licked her lips and let her mouth water, moistening her dry throat. "My sweetling Kagutsu," she said. "I want to hunt again."

* * *

Tony hadn't seen Zim come out of the ICT room for over half an hour. At first he guessed the extraterrestrial was glad to be out of an elevator, and had fled for solid ground away from the nearest lazy-persons-staircase.

Zim had found it very beneficial to slander off the equipment in the Stark tower; from the holograms to JARVIS, to the touch screens and the motion sensor technology that made its home here like mayflies to a river. He had managed to damage the robotic ego of three of Tony's personal computerized handy-men (good only for misfiring fire extinguishers) and that of Pepper Potts by commenting on how short she'd be without her heels - however she had only laughed at that and given Tony a snide look for his troubles.

After a couple of glasses of champagne, Tony was feeling over confident about everything; the progress of his non-existent profit growth, of which Pepper was try and failing to reboot, and about Zim. However, that too was something Pepper was trying and failing to reboot.

She was standing outside of the locked ICT room, tapping on the door every now and again and asked if everything was OK. The responses were always along the lines of 'I am ZIM!', 'Silence!', 'Shut up, retched human,' and 'You ask too many questions.'.  
Now, however, she decided to trust Zim to not destroy everything in that room, the expenses would not be threatening, but inconvenient and if there was one thing Pepper did not want, it was yet another inconvenience.

"Tony, I really think you should go in there a see if everything's okay," she said simply.

Tony let an over-enthusiastic smile come over him. One hand drummed on the leather sofas arm. "I don't see why, the kid seems to be…not… breaking anything so far. And that's always good."

Pepper rolled her eyes and sat next to him. She was always in awe at him; how he never changed, always stayed simple and calm. Not often stressed and could hold liquor better than a Russian. "He doesn't trust me, Tony."

He smirked. "That piece of work doesn't trust anyone. You should be giving me a medal for just letting him stay here."

Pepper's eyes widened. "Are you serious? He can't stay here, in the tower. I don't trust you in here on your own never mind, well, Zim." She said the name with an awkward pause. "I wonder what would happen if he got his hands on the Iron Man suits?"

"Ah Pep, you need to stop taking everything everyone says as gospel," he said crudely. "It seems to be your speciality. Oh, and have you compared me to Zim? We're like… over a foot in height difference."

"I bet he's smart enough to take it apart though," Pepper muttered to herself.

Tony didn't reply, instead stared intently at his empty champagne glass. He pursed his lips and looked to Pepper with a smile. "More?"

Pepper sighed and reached for the bottle of the table.

"No, Pep, that one's empty," he said hastily. "I think… I think Dib had some of that a few days ago but… but I'm not too sure."

Pepper shook her head and contemplated. Eventually she stood up and went to fetch another bottle - if only to get him so drunk he'd pass out and she could send Zim away quickly and without disturbance.

When she was gone, Tony bolted up right and strode over the ICT room door. He tapped on it and tried to open it. It was locked. He sighed and stepped back, pressing his hand onto the door. It glowed red around the corners. Access denied.  
Tony wanted to swear out loud, but that would probably fall on the ears of Pepper, who would be furiously trying to locate another bottle of champagne - of which there wasn't any. Tony was, to say the least, glad that Pepper paid very little attention to the amount of alcohol in the tower.

"C'mon Zimmy," Tony said, kicking the door. "Don't tell me you've gone all emo on me. If you are I'll…tie you down to a chair and make you watch kids television channels."

"My name is ZIM, foul human! Do not tamper with the name of ZIM!"

He stepped back and shoved his hands into his pockets. At least he's more enthusiastic now. "At least let me in. This is my tower. Mine. I built it. Kind of. Not really, but it's still mine."

Zim went quite for a moment. "Foolish earth-monkey… I am ZIM! I do not care that this is your property. I'm here now so… yeah."

He tried not to laugh, and instead drew closer to the door and pressed his ear against the cold metal. It glowed red again but he ignored it. From within the room, Tony thought he heard voices. An explosion. A few more voices and a few maniacal laughs. "Aw, c'mon Zim. Let me in, I'm your friend aren't I?"

Zim let out a short-lived and half-hearted laugh. "Friends? With Zim? I am an Invader… Invaders need no-one." His enthusiasm died out as he spoke.

Tony squinted - as if that could help him listen - and heard Zim muttering to himself. It sounded like 'This is pointless' or 'This barrel is pintless'. "Look, dude, you're acting like Pepper - one moment she'll be a lovely as a field of daisies and then next she's leaping down your throat telling you what's what now, I'll tell you the what's what that you're missing," Tony wondered if that made any sense, but didn't dwell on it long enough to make any conclusions. "This is my tower. You seem to have locked me out of the ICT room. If you break one of those computers, that room with go under lockdown and all the air will be removed. Then, lo and behold, some very handy people in white and gold armour - whom I hate very much - will come around to drag your unconscious body back to Rax up on his massive throne somewhere involving rifts in time and stuff that I cannot be bothered to understand."

Zim went silent again - either not bothered to reply or actually pondering the question over and over. He had gotten on good footing with Rax, and he didn't want to cause him an inconvenience for some reason. It had been a while since Zim had not wanted to be an inconvenience to people - he'd been one to his leaders.  
That thought subdued him.

The ICT room was cool and slightly small. There were five or six desks with Blackpanel screens - off. He had wanted to hack into them. Now he just felt a pointlessness around everything; there was a vent over in the far corner - why'd it have to be there? There was a dormant robot at one of the computers taking a break. Why did it have to be here? Wouldn't it be better if it was just… gone?

Zim touched the PAK on his back gently. He knew, awfully well, that it was not pointless. But it did not stop him from thinking. Humans didn't have them. Gods didn't. What other race had any machinery lodged into their spines? He'd never thought about it before. But here, all loyalties in flame, everything was an open subject.  
So he stayed there and wondered.

"Go away, Tony-human. I'll not touch any of your… filthy computers." He hoped it was enough so that he'd give up and leave him alone. He turned back to the computer he had hacked into. The PAK was attached to it, and Zim watched - his head on his folded arms - his entire life as he had done so on his trial.

* * *

Gaz had not actually gone out with friends that night as she had told Dib. She had, in fact, gone to the Pavilions District. There were two people there she considered her family; a sort of mother who was not motherly, and a father who was not as fatherly, but without Dad actually here, they filled an empty space she thought she could never have.

Benzaiten had been ecstatic when she had opened the door and Gaz had stood there. With one quick movement she had Gaz in a headlock and pulled her inside, kicking the door shut. This crazy goddess was the only person Gaz allowed to put her in a headlock, as well as throw objects at.

"Susan! Guess who came to see us!" Benzaiten hollered, letting Gaz go and slumping down on one of the seats.

Gaz smiled and sat herself opposite Benzaiten. The office space they sat in was as uncared for as usual. The shelves were made of scrap plywood and the coffee table was still stained and cracked. Papers both old and new were piled like towers in the corner, empty boxes and boxes full of spare parts, nuts, bolts and spanners were torn and packed with very little concern. In the large ashtray were used pieces of chewing gum and rotting biscuits, paper clips and other assorted junk. Cigarette butts, however, seemed to elude their proper resting place, either ground into the unclean carpet or littered on the table like a sprinkling of sawdust. Not too bad.

"It's worse out front, in the repair bay. We can't let you in right now, since Susan is cleaning the place up. He blames me for the mess, I've no idea why since I haven't been in there today."

There was a moment of silence. The sound of banging metal and an angry, gruff, deep voice cursing and muttering to itself. It was definitely not the sound of someone cleaning.

Benzaiten got up and went through a door that looked like it was made of cardboard. Through the door was a kitchen space, and another door that lead out into the repair bay - at least that door was made of four inch thick steel.  
The kitchen space had a large plastic window looking out onto the office space. Benzaiten put it there so she could keep an eye on guests who looked like they would steal something. Not that there was anything to steal.

Benzaiten filled up a grubby kettle from an equally grubby sink. "Cup of tea? Coffee?" She asked lightly.

"Got anything stronger," Gaz replied with a smirk on her face.

The messy woman poured the water back down the sink and opened a drawer underneath it. "I can never catch you out, Gazzy. We've got gin, whiskey, beer, cider-"

"I said have you got anything stronger?" Gaz replied again with a playfully harsh tone. Gaz had learnt that the idea of 'playful' tones to Benzaiten were considered rude by everyone else. Being demanding and snide made her like someone.

Benzaiten laughed and closed the drawers. "That all depends. How sick do you want to get tonight?"

"I don't, Benny. I just want a drink. A half-glass of something strong," she said. "I just want to stop wondering what the hell I've gotten myself into."

Hair matted and eyes ablaze, Benzaiten leaned forward on the counter and looked directly at Gaz. It was rarely often that the mechanic got herself into any real serious moods that didn't include flipping out and swearing and cursing. "You don't just judge someone to spite someone else, Gazzy. You know that. I had a hard enough time with that guy." Benzaiten out her hands behind her head and spread her fingers out like spikes on a hedgehog.

Gaz laughed. "I know, I know… but…that's the only reason I did it. Because Dib would have."

"So you either wanted to spite you brother just because he would have done it other wise," Benzaiten said with a mussing tone. "Or that and because you know - we all know - he would have had Zim bound for a burning block at Sealake." She wrapped a strand of hair around her fingers and let her gaze settle on the trophies and certificates the shop had earned. Through all the filth and grime that this place gathered, it was Benzaiten's baby.

Gaz didn't say anything for a while, frowning to herself. Why had she done it? It would have been far less hassle to just let Dib do it and be over with it. Especially when she had a championship coming up in a couple of months. "Do you have any absinth?"

Benzaiten frowned. "Yeah sure. Although I think Susan has it in the shop. He's been using it to clean the equipment." She laughed. "That's going to bite him on the arse." Then she turned and left to enter the repair bay; Susanoo was still cursing and the crashing was still going.

From the office, the sound of arguing could be heard, then a loud clang of metal on metal, and then silence. Benzaiten came back in laughing. "You know what, Gaz, I don't know why you do what you do."

"What? Play video games?"

"Exactly!" Benzaiten snapped her fingers and pointed at Gaz. "Ryujin - that cocky fucking dragon - has been trying to contact you for a few years now. He gave me a message I was supposed to deliver, but I almost forgot, like the fucktard I am."

Gaz tilted her head to one side. "Is it from years ago? I know what you're like." She paused. "I thought he'd know by now that I'm happy where I am." She crossed her legs and held her hands together hard; her knuckles going white.

"Ha! No, no, this is recent," Benzaiten said with her usual, exploding voice. "He said he could really use you on his side." She sat down next to Gaz and threw an arm around her, pulling her into a headlock again. "He said that he'll be at Godscraper's platform at Zenith District. You know where that it?"

Gaz nodded. Godscraper was the name of a rail train that went from the highest tier of the city - the aptly named Zenith District - all the way out into the countryside and to the city of Giovane and multiple villages. At the end of the rail was the small town of Galchester. The town designed to look like a slice of England. It was home to the beautiful Galchester house - the home of dragons.

"He'll be there everyday from tomorrow for the next two weeks between ten and eleven AM." Benzaiten looked up at her clock. "Yeah, that's the morning isn't it? Yeah. He'd be there."

Gaz let her gaze drop to the floor. She didn't feel like a drink. "Why does he want me?"

Benzaiten shrugged. "You're supernatural, Gaz. You can do things that multiple gods can't, without having to have a source. In a way… you're better than us." That last part sounded slightly resented. "He's a spy, Gaz. He's been working on infiltrating Sultan, and according to him he's doing a good job. Maybe he wants to make ten agents eleven."

* * *

**This is one of the biggest chapters so far, wow. So the plot thickens and Sultan makes another appearance! Slightly slow releasing this one because of another heat wave that buggered my laptop, and yesterday my sister raided my room and was on Skyrim all day. **

**In later news, I'll probably be putting together a collage of all the crossover characters. I have done one for the OC's, in my profile. It's one of the links just before the unfinished OC profiles. **


	9. Some People Don't Panic

**Please guys, reviews are really treasured, and I will review one of your stories in return because it's only fair. It really helps me write quicker and makes me happy! Please, feel free to ask questions, answer them, predict or anything else - tell me what you liked, didn't like, I care about these things.**

* * *

Dib had gone to sleep to late, and had woken up in the same manner. To his shock, he had slept all the way through his alarm - set to go off at quarter past seven - and it was now nine thirty. Still, he refused to believe he was a heavy sleeper.

With a quick call to Vincent and then to Levi, he had moved the team meeting to twelve - forward an hour.

It didn't take him long to shower and dressed, trying to tame the tall spike in his hair as he entered the main living area, where GIR was still watching the same film. There was popcorn and spilt soda all over the floor, and GIR continued to reach into the empty packet in his hands and shoving non-existence candy into his mouth.

Dib stood and looked at him, the robot unaware that he was standing in the doorway to the hall. Being honest with himself, Dib doubted GIR would care. He doesn't seem to miss his old master… poor Zim. He paused halfway through a second bite of the apple. Poor Zim? Where did that come from? The last person Dib would ever imagine feeling sorry for was Zim - he should have been celebrating the fact his old arch-nemesis was probably rather lonely.

To stop himself from thinking any more on the subject, Dib decided to head out. Even with the option of an elevator, Dib decided to take the stairs. He seemed to hop all the way down, jigging to some unknown song.  
The basement of the apartment block was a massive garage; at first Dib had been confused as to why there were no locks on the vehicles and no space to keep them out of view.

Dib owned a much more conservative vehicle compared to the supercars that Vincent and Tony were both known for. For someone unaccustomed to Ark style, however, every vehicle was 'super' looking.

He ran his knuckle over a small black line about nine inches long on the door. The line glowed white and the door opened. The car itself was sharp; most super cars were a distinctive low with covered wheels and elongated Blackpanel windows that merged into each other with a classy lack of character. Or a sharp, defined kind of large that was dynamic and slightly terrifying to look at.

The Razorblade that Dib owned was not too low in comparison to Vincent's ZEPHYR. It had a high sweeping back end, but a low and straight front end, with four seats and a back spoiler. The windows were tinted and the wheels were extended out slightly, the bars covered to look like part of the body.

Like the ZEPHYR, it had a race car like wheel with panels. When Dib pressed them back, the windshield lit up and the word 'RAZORBLADE' cut across in white capitals, with Dibs name underneath.  
Unlike the ZEPHYR, this machine was much more reasonable in speed.

After a while contemplating his being in the car, he left. Then he heard a voice behind him.

"You were gonna leave without me?" It crooned. "We go out, and you buy me a muffin. A spicy chilly muffin!" GIR danced in the back of the car, holding a plastic toy pig in one hand.

Dib sighed and rolled his eyes. "I don't think you get chilly muffins."

GIR silenced and sat back in the seats. Then he paused. "Well you do now!" He swung his robotic legs and stuck his tongue out at Dib.

Dib sighed and flicked a switch to put the car into gear, and drove out into the morning light, with GIR singing wildly in his back seat. All he could think about were the agents. There was something wrong… with the names.

* * *

Tony hadn't realized that he'd fallen asleep on the sofa in the Stark tower. He also hadn't realized that there actually had been a bottle of champagne hidden under one of his cars and that Pepper had somehow located it and got him completely smashed. Speaking of Pepper, it seemed she had - in her style - gone off to deal with all the business that Tony himself would not. All of it, in short.

The sun was not the way to tell the time; the sun was a giant solar light installed in the ceiling that faded and brightened with the time of day that was set.

Tony slowly sat himself up right, to avoid his head spinning and pounding. He blinked to clear his head. For a moment or two he considered the state of himself; he reeked of alcohol and sweat.

After a couple of minutes of searching, Tony managed to find a spare shirt, much to his relief. He didn't bother to change his jeans. They were mostly unscathed. He hunted through compartments and drawers for any to freshen himself up a little; a mint, chewing gum, aerosol, anything at all. But when he found none, he just shrugged to himself and went over to the ICT room door.

The intercom system crackled into life. "He's awake! Hallelujah, tis' a miracle." The voice was cynical, matter-of-fact and, too any female, capable of making her swoon, taken or not. It had a posh British undertone.

Tony slacked and groaned. "Oh hello. Don't you have oh, I don't know…a poor woman to listen to as she rambles about her dead dog? A business man who might have been a victim of attempted assassination - oh wait, you'd like that."

The voice let out a deep, short-lived chuckle. "Not today, Mr Stark. I fear that I got bored and hacked into your system. I must say that your security is awful. It's not just me using your computer system as of now."

Tony wasn't going to humour him, no matter how pressing that matter was. This was a man who, on his best day, would completely destroy a mans confidence and make him feel as if he were in the presence of a god - when Tony thought about it, these days that was pretty common, and therefore not very imposing. "Cut the crap, Sherlock. We're friends right?"

"I don't have friends, Mr Stark. Only one, need I remind you?" He said, still calm and unaffected.

"Oh lighten up, Shirley," Tony said. "All you need is to pretend. You're good at that. Maybe you can get lessons from Dexter… oh wait."

Sherlock let out a heavy sigh and a rhythmic tapping sent contortion through the intercom. "I'm perfectly fine with who I am, Stark. I don't hide behind false facades." There was a muffled noise like another voice. Tony guessed that it was John Watson. Those two were thick as thieves.

"Okay, so… great job hacking into my system. Now I know that it needs sharpening."

"Phenomenally so," Sherlock interjected before Tony could continue. "Two unauthorized personnel in the same system at once, but only one is accessing your files right now."

Tony marched over to a massive screen installed in the walls. With a few hand scans and odd passwords and files selections later, Tony breathed a sigh of relief. "That would be you searching through my schedule."

"Well done. You're not half as stupid as you look." There was a hidden surprise behind that tone.

"Well, I didn't become a billionaire with only my good looks, Shirley," Tony smirked to himself. He'd impressed Sherlock Holmes. That didn't happen often. Obviously the Consulting Detective had expected his hack to be flawlessly undetectable.

Sherlock cleared his throat and continued. "How's the green thing? Still sulking, I take it?"

Tony raised his gaze quickly to the intercom on the wall. He frowned and rested his hands on his hips, adjusting his stance. "How'd you know about that?"

"The lovely Miss Potts popped in to drop off some files and told me. I take it you haven't proposed to her yet?"

Tony laughed. "Obviously not." It was common knowledge that Pepper and him were together. Had been for a very long time. Longer than Tony had ever thought possible. That girl was a miracle, really. She basically ran the entire company for him. She had more of an idea what was best for him than he did.

"Well hurry up; she's not exactly playing hard to get, Stark." It wasn't often that Sherlock ever seemed to encourage a relationship, let alone urge it on like this. Then again, Sherlock could just have been pretending out of spite. Or pointing out the obvious.

"Alright Shirley, why'd you call?" Tony said finally.

"West."

"West? Herbert West?" Tony frowned and shook his head. "Couldn't he just have called me? You could have just called too, you know. Not hack into my system."

Sherlock let out a heavy sigh again. This time, however, it was irritated. "Because you ignore all of his calls. And the hacking thing? I've wanted to do it for a long time just to spite you."

"Lovely," Tony replied in a chipper tone. "What does West want?"

There was the sound of paper from the other end of the intercom. "He's curious about the alien currently locked in your ICT room."

The colour seemed to vanish from Tony's face - he'd completely forgot that Zim was locked inside that room. He had planned to force the door open and sit him down for a chat. "Why? What would West want with him?" That glowing poison of his, that's why.

"I think we all know that answer, Stark," Sherlock said very assertively. "I don't know what he hopes to achieve while Zim, is it? Yes, while Zim is alive. We all know what happened the last time a living person was injected with the serum."

Tony leaned against a wall, his hands shoved in his pockets. He let his head go back, hitting the wall with a dull thud. For the first time in a while he allowed himself to think on something better left alone. Like everyone else, he hadn't actually seen West inject that Devil's elixir into a live specimen. That wasn't what it was for; it was supposed to re-animate corpses from death as long as the death had not caused much damage.  
It didn't work - but even now, West worked on it with genetically manufactured bodies. A dark, immoral point of Ark. It was better than having a serial killed going around just to make mindless zombies out of the victims.

The unlucky man who had been inject while alive had not been injected by West himself, but had foolishly done it to himself. He had then proceeded to explode, but somehow keep on living in a zombie state.

West's work was both morally and immorally wrong.

"I guess he'd want to see if it worked on an alien species…he'd need Zim dead." Tony didn't like the sound of that; he wanted Zim alive, not dead or in chains in a zombie state.

"Yeah, and guess who our lovely West has been conversing with?"

Tony shrugged. "I don't know."

"Our own little mystic, Tenji Michizane." Sherlock was enjoying this; for once he was telling Tony something he didn't already know. "West's been preparing many different serums and a pumping system to reverse the effects of the serum, flushing it out in preparation for another, altered version that can work multiple times."

Tony's eyes widened. "West is getting ready for Zim to kick the bucket? He's only been here a day."

Sherlock laughed. "And from what I tell he has some serious issues; trust issues, emotional instability. I'm guessing some form of depression or anxiety. One doesn't shut themselves away for anything other than pity or an excuse to not go out for a family gathering." There was a pause. More paper shuffling.

Tony hissed something under his breath.

"What was that?" Sherlock's tone was obnoxious.

"Suicide?" Tony hated that word. Even when he'd been faced with complete bodily collapse at the hands of shrapnel, he hadn't been so weak. "No, not ever. He's too proud. Oh God no, never."

"Yeah, I think you should get in there with Zim and cheer him up. Make him a doom canon or his own Iron Man suit." Sherlock cut off then and there and left Tony hanging with multiple doors thrown open in his mind.

The billionaire glanced over at the door. Behind it was Zim, and after that conversation, Tony guessed that Zim was the second person hacked onto the server. He walked over to the door and pressed his hand to it. It glowed red in denial. He sighed and turned away, scratching the back of his head. Then he whirled around and smashed both fists onto the heavy metal panelling. "Open the door, Zim! Open you fucking.. selfish…" He couldn't bring himself to say that final word; he'd known Zim for just over ten hours in total and already he cared for him like a friend. Calling a friend in that way was insulting, no matter how strong a relationship was. He wouldn't even call Rhodey it.

When there was no reply, Tony launched out of the room and down to the steps, towards his pride and joy.

* * *

As days went, this was a very nice one. There was a very refreshing breeze and the solar light was giving off a pleasant warmth. The mix of the two resulted in a perfect day; it was cool enough to wear a jacket but warm enough to make it snug.

Godscraper station was hung high above the city on its platform, white and clean, without a speck of graffiti anywhere in sight. People sat at benches reading news screens or books, some just sat with iPod ear pieces. There were a few gamers on the platform with their games, frowning and cursing under their breath every now and again.

Gaz had arrived early, after the noise of Benzaiten's workshop had woken her from a rough sleep on the office couch. She had taken one of Benzaiten's bikes - a low black vehicle that she had nicknamed 'the Bat' as a reference to the Batman movies. As a rule, Gaz was not really fond of being out in public in any vehicle that was not over six hundred crowns. Mainly due to her public image, and also because she had the money.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, she had gotten a familiar acquaintance to take the vehicle back to Hellsmouth, Benzaiten's garage. She had promptly told the man that the bike was worth more than his life and that Benzaiten would surely know that he had stolen it if it was not returned - everybody knew the cantankerous goddess by reputation. He'd have it delivered.

After much deliberation, Gaz had taken her baby; the Novem. Aptly named. Novem meant nine, and nine was the divide of one hundred of the miles per hour the thing could do. It had a low front and a high back, one thick and low wheel at the front and two high ones at the back, spaced a foot apart. The windshield was high and covered her head in Blackpanel. Like in a car, the display came up on the Blackpanel windshield.

It was deep purple, with strikes of gold in rare splashes. She has her name obnoxiously on the registration number and the side of the Blackpanel facing out and backwards. It was comfy to sit in - lay in was more pertinent for the design, feet pushed against high bracers. And boy, did it sing. The dragon-jaw exhausts would send out bursts of purple and gold fire when the engine overheated.

It was obvious who she was when she drove by; the dragon crest and the purple and gold theme. And the massive price tag it had obviously cost. It had been bought during an uncertain period of time; before the semi-final of the championships, blowing all of her money bar three diadems.

She had gotten through and received the money to relieve her accountant's tension.

That vehicle, however, was now sitting under the Godscraper station, locked and protected. It had already attracted much attention and she'd already had to sign six autographs.

Ryujin hadn't showed up yet. It wasn't much to her surprise, however. The dragon was not used to a set timetable. He could turn up at eleven PM instead of AM. The wait had already gone into one hour, and she was begin to crave the power of Novem. She's already estimated four one hundred crown fines - it didn't matter much to her. Dib could pay them for all she cared.

She checked her watch, and then flipped out a thin Smartphone, checking her emails and texts.

"And who would have thought that ol' Ryu would find a perfectly cut diamond up here today!" Ryujin. He had arrived in his attire, verging that of cross-dressing, in skinny jeans and a loose shoulder hanging shirt. He had slightly heeled boots, jeans tucked into them, and low-cut black gloves. His pale hair was sweeping and spiky. Gaz spied a light dusting of foundation on his face.

Gaz gave a weak smile. She hated being compared to anything beautiful. "You're causing quite a fuss at the moment, Ryujin," she said without much enthusiasm. "And when did Benny become your messenger? She hates you."

Ryujin laughed, adjusting his stance and resting his hands on his hips. "Me and Benny go back a long way - she'd not have told you if I hadn't tried to cover her workshop in gasoline."

She gave him a wide-eyed stare of shock, but said nothing to humour him. A normal person would have started rambling about where he'd gotten gasoline. Energy was perpetual and fuel was hydrogen and friction-generated power. "That's a little harsh."

Ryujin lifted a leather finger to his lips. "But necessary, little Gaz."

That's what Zim called me that one time… how is he doing anyway? "I doubt it. You could have just told me. But, let's cut to the chase," Gaz ran her fingers down the lapel of her jacket, pulling it forward and turning the collar up. She shifted on her thick leather biking boots. "Why'd you want me here?"

That was when the train pulled in; low, glossy and sleek like a snake. It had the commercial and household Blackpanel windows. On the side in bold capitals in black was the name of the train; BALAUR.

Ryujin smiled. "A talk and a ride. First class tickets, obviously."

Gaz bit her lip and lowered her gaze to the ground. She scuffed at the floor and then looked up again. "Would you be worried if I said I didn't trust you?" She said simply. "I don't like you, Ryujin. I think you're a coward, a liar and a two-faced fucker. It's your fault alone I'm here."

Ryujin didn't look the slightest bit affected. "I'd say good for you. And I'm sure the void of death is more preferable to an eternity in a utopia," he walked towards the back of the train, his hands tucked into his pockets now. "You can either talk with me, or leave this opportunity to you brother. I don't care that I've wasted sixteen crowns and two medallions on this ticket. I burn money in the morning."

He climbed into the back and left the door open.

For a moment, Gaz was tempted to get back to her Novem and drive away and not look back. She had games to play, people to see. But then her curiosity got the better of her. She got into the train.

Inside was spacious and clean - two soft seats and pale lilac lights running underneath them, a mini fridge on one wall. There wasn't much to it, but it was a nice and comfortable space. The hum of air-conditioning was low, she almost couldn't hear it over the fumbling and talking of people getting into the front carriages.

She took a seat opposite Ryujin and pulled a cola from the fridge, opening it slowly, never letting her eyes leave Ryujin. As she removed the lid it let out a long, loud hiss.

Ryujin smiled, showing four sharp top teeth that were excessive canines and premolars. "I'm glad you decided to come with me, Gaz. I'd have been… disappointed had you not."

She smirked. "Cut the crap, Ryujin. Tell me what you want. I'll be getting off at the lower station." She took a long drink from the bottle before slamming it on the white pine table and pursing her lips - a familiar shade of lipstick the colour of plum.

Ryujin reached over the table and grabbed her upper arm. His smile stopped her from whacking him viciously and storming out of the cabin. "You're going to stay on this train till our business is done. I own this one, so I can go round and round how ever many times I want."

Gaz rolled her eyes. "You had to buy a ticket."

"For you, Gaz. Not me. And please, call me Ryu."

* * *

Dib knew the two in his team; Stargra and Mizuhame. That was good. He wasn't going to have to get used to and forge a trust with someone he didn't know, as he had when he had first joined. These two women were good at their jobs, and had been at it for longer than he had been here himself. Stargra was a very well-to-be woman, with long pale green hair and wide, bright yellow eyes. She wore a pale pink cotton jumper, the neck folded around her throat. The jumper itself was long, going down just above her knees, with pale denim skinny jeans and converses. On her hands she wore thin white gloves. She was particularly notorious for never showing skin other than her face. The sister, however, was much more exposed than Stargra.

Stargra treated her job as a Secret Servicewoman like a part time job. It wasn't the best attitude, but it sufficed. She kept her mouth shut and her ears open. What she loved was fashion; it was what she lived and breathed. Many people had given her many thanks; she was considered the only reason that modern fashion did not slip into nudity at the time of her arrival. By her hand alone it was considered that modesty and class had returned to both males and females - she was by no mean hatful of showing skin, it was just her quirk.

She spoke as modest as she looked, with a posh accent licking every other word. "I take it that Agent Chronicle is working the tech this time around?" She said.

Dib nodded, leaned against a wall at the entrance of an alley. Unlike Stargra, he had taken it upon himself to dress appropriately to the location of their meeting; he wore a black vest with lime green spirals and lines plastered to one side, with sharply designed glasses that were thin and slightly gothic. A leather jacket was thrown over his shoulders, with a similar green design to his shirt. Dark skinny jeans and high boots went with it. A multitude of chains on his jacket and wrists wore him down. He'd even equipped himself with a fake lip piercing and tattoo - he looked severely uncomfortable.

Stargra clasped her hands together. "You look very…awful."

GIR stood beside her, clutching a taco and a large bag of curly fries. "You look like doom," the little robot cooed before shoving the bag of fries into his mouth.

Dib smiled, hating the way the piercing bit into his skin. "I know, but at least I won't be turning any heads." Dib poked his head out - he'd dressed in a way that made him blend in with fifty percent of the people here. It was a busy day that happened once a year since Ark began. The sound of live Indie music flooded down the street.

"I like this song…" GIR turned his head to the source of the music and began jigging in a way that was not consistent with the music.

On top of bus stations were words that came together to make a phrase 'Gods Are Among Us'. This was the biggest street art festival in Vita, covering eight streets in the Neons District, and was organized and done by a singular art group by the name 'Among Gods'. There were massive paintings on the high concrete buildings, pillars and floors. A colossal array of styles and colour - from portraits to huge silhouettes, colourful pieces of fantasy art and modern art. The name of the festival and the art group was placed sporadically on massive empty spaces in many different styles.

The festival would go on into the night, and the neon pieces would turn on.

Dib spied a bright, symbolic piece on a narrow and high wall near him; There was half a sun at the foot of the wall, with rays climbing up to the top - there were black figures of people in the rays, some outside of them reaching in or holding hands with others. The highest figures where white with faded and almost technological wings. At the top was a neat white circle.

Dib smiled at it. Then he seethed. It was a tribute to the Angelic. Rax's elite, Ark's supreme warriors and kindest of heart. It's inspirational men and women.

Like Tony Stark, Dib had a vast dislike of the Angelic, even though many of his friends were part of them. He knew he could not just go to Rax and ask to join; he had to inspire the great god, and even for Rax, the power of inspiration was not a conscious thing.  
The Angelic was a complex things, with many dominions and ranks and titles. And he was not one of them, no matter how hard he had tried.

Stargra sighed, spying the gothic men and women and the Indie men and women. There was a massive clash of culture here, for the sake of art. "I guess I should have known I'd have to get out of my comfort zone here," she said. "Well, too late now."

There was a brief pause between the two. Then their earpieces crackled on, making them jump.

"That was frustrating," growled Mizuhame. "I can't believe I have work while Among Gods throw an art festival…"

Dib smiled. "There's always next year."

"That's not fair, Ezekiel!" Mizuhame squealed. "I always go to the Among Gods festivals! I save up to buy prints and get them signed. Why couldn't Ezekiel have been on the tech duty this time? I have four hundred crows collecting dust now that could have been spent on amazing art."

GIR began laughing insanely and clapped his hand, taking sporadic bites out of his taco. "You just got sceee-reeeewed, lady. Now if you don't mind, I gotta go and get me more tacos!" He went to leave, but Stargra turned him around, and GIR went with it.

"I'm sorry Chronicle, but business is business," Dib tried to let remorse slip into his voice, but he was failing. "Speaking of that, I have some intriguing ideas about our mission."

Stargra tilted her head to one side and folded her arms. "Go on then," she said after a minor pause.

"If I'm correct, then the traitor to Ark has to be an agent," he said calmly. He saw Stargra shift, as if she were uncomfortable.

She let her head roll forward and she looked up at him with eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. "Interesting incentive. I'd like to know how you got that."

A chill ran down Dib's spine as he looked into her eyes. He let it pass. With a quick movement he pushed himself off of the wall and started pacing. "Leading Star told me that all the information was Agent related; something only we could know, such as the socially and economically weak points of Ark. There was a lot of information on weapons and transport, and even Rax." A lie.

"Okay then. But why couldn't it be someone in weaponry who is making faulty weapons?" Stargra eyed Dib. She bit her lip and dropped her gaze, fingers pressed to her forehead. "I don't want to jump to conclusions on this, Ezekiel."

At that point, GIR stopped walking into a wall and turned his head around and stared up at Stargra and Dib. He didn't have a smile, for once in a very long time. "You don't sound very happy." The smile returned. "How 'bout I get you some fish sticks!" Before Stargra could, protest, GIR had already bolted away out of the alley. He'd be back.

Dib turned to her, and ran his hands down his face and let out a frustrated growl. "Who would be selling faulty weapons to Ark? Stark is a very trustworthy person, and Ultimate runs Infinity. The Iron Sights are noted for their pristine work," he raised his voice, but under the pounding of drum and bass, he was nothing.  
He stopped to listen to the underlying computerized lyrics; deep and straight. Then he resisted the urge to start tapping his foot to the beat.

Stragra shuffled again and grumbled under her breath. Then she shook her head and looked up at Dib. "Ryujin runs Iron Sights…" she said with loathing.

"And that means?" Dib shrugged.

Into the maze from your reflection,  
We enter from a new alternate dimension.

Stargra sighed and slacked her arms, walking deeper into the alley and putting her hands on the back of her head. "Don't you know what he did, Ezekiel? It's his fault we're all stuck on this tin-can."

He frowned and pursed his lips. "I'm not sure I understand that."

"He set the behemoth free that Rax fought. When he did, we all tried to escape via this ship. It came after us and nearly destroyed us - it's his doing that you're here, along with everyone else." She didn't turn to face him, but stood in the alley without even a twitch.

Dib knew that Stargra didn't like him very much; as far as she was concerned, all crossworlders were intruders, taking up unnecessary space. For a long time Dib had tried not to return the feelings. It was her childish passive aggressiveness that made that impossible.

That was when she did eventually turn to him with a softer face. "Although you have a point. We need to check every agents transmissions. Find out every alibi and every unusual absence. Then we can talk further."

Dib nodded and smiled. "How do we start?"

Mizuhame chipped in. "I can scan everything right now," she said happily. She clapped her hands on the other end of the transmission. "I've all of the files up now. Jeez, ten scans on transmissions going back years. This is going to be tough."

"Less narration, more scanning," Dib said gently. He smiled again at Stargra and headed out into the street. "I feel like observing more art before we continue."

"You bastards!"

* * *

Gaz bit her lip, fiddling with the empty bottle. They were currently stopped in one of the town stations, currently three hundred miles from Vita. She sat still, and then began tapping the table with the lid of the bottle.

Ryujin watched her intently, leaning on the table, fingers clasped and eyes bright.

She tapped him on the head with her bottle and gave him a sarcastic smile, getting up and heading to the door, pressing her hand into the pad. It scanned her print.

"Wait, what are you doing?" His voice was quick and sharp.

In a display of arrogance, Gaz tipped her head back to look at him, swishing her hair slightly. Her eyes were bright and wide; Ryujin noticed that there was a thin, darker ring of brown around the outside of her golden iris'. "I'm turning down your offers, Ryujin," she said with a childlike smile, "and am complete certain. I'm not going to be an agent, Ryu. I don't care, okay? I don't need training or help or a place of my own. I just want soda, pizza, a good party now and again, and my games."

The doors opened and she stepped through, but Ryujin bolted up, his hand reaching out through the door as it shut.

Gaz looked at his arm and hand, eyes wide. His skin had turned into pale scales, thick and tear shaped. His hand had transformed into threatening claws the same pale colours as his eyes, curling viciously. The palm of his hand was pearl coloured. The scales faded back into flesh at his elbow.  
She met his slit-iris eyes.

"Oh I insist, little Gaz," he whispered. "You and I could do great things together. You, you are more than a god, Gaz. You rival the weapons of mass destruction we call ultra gods. You need no source, you are your own source." His smile was wide and desperate; his teeth all large fangs, seemingly too large for his mouth judging by the blood coming from his lips.

Gaz turned without a word, throwing one arm back. The corners of her eyes glowed blue - intricate, thing patterns imitated a similar hue across her body - and a light pulsed from her hand and then burst forward like a canon. She didn't even look back to see if Ryujin had frozen.

* * *

**This took me too long! I don't have a very big excuse this time, since even though I'm at my uncle's home, he has a fan that's been keeping my computer running perfectly for days now!**

**So, things thicken further. The lyrics here are an edited version of Pendulum's The Terminal. Pretty beastly song. **


End file.
